Sixteen Candles
by Syl
Summary: Dick Grayson reaches a milestone birthday.


Title: Sixteen Candles Author: Syl Francis Email: efrancis@earthlink.net Part: 1/1 Rating: PG Word count: 33,530 

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Summary: Reaching his sixteenth birthday, Dick Grayson finds himself reassessing his relationships with both his friends and foes. 

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome! 

Copyright 1999 

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Sixteen Candles By Syl Francis 

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Chapter One: Two-Face 

The young man expertly drove the sleek, red convertible Porsche, his sixteenth birthday gift. His dark-haired, wind blown, good looks were striking enough to draw second and third glances from passing female motorists. A carload of students from a local exclusive girls' school honked and waved good-naturedly. They collapsed into helpless giggles when he flashed them a dazzling smile. 

The car pulled up next to him. The girls' foolish stunt instantly worried Dick. They were on a two-lane road with several dangerously blind curves. At any moment, another vehicle could suddenly appear in front of them. 

"Are you *crazy*?" Dick yelled. "You trying to get yourselves killed?" He began slowing down, urging them to pull ahead of him. However, the carload of fun- loving, girls blithely ignored the danger and his warning. 

"Dick! When are you going to phone me?" one girl called waving both arms over her head. She blew him several kisses. Dick recognized her as the kid sister of one of his classmates. 

"Pull up!" Dick answered. Emphatically pointing his finger in front of his car. 

"I'm free Saturday night!" another yelled, shoving the first one down. 

"I'm free *any* night!" still another added, laughing. She was standing up on the back seat, precariously managing to balance herself somehow. 

The first girl kept blowing kisses, while another whistled appreciatively. The one standing up cupped her hands and began reciting her phone number. 

"Call me!" she cried. As they drove off, the girls' fun-filled laughter trailed behind them. 

Dick shook his head bemusedly. Girls, for the most part, were still somewhat of a mystery to him. At sixteen, he had yet to go out on a "real" date. Of course, part of this morning's plan was to hopefully rectify that sorry state of affairs, he thought determinedly. 

Dick smiled to himself, easily visualizing Babs' beautiful, long red hair. A small squirrel abruptly crossed his path, interrupting his daydream. Expertly cutting the Porsche right then left, Dick breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the frightened squirrel in his rearview mirror dashing back into the treeline. 

He shook his head. 

"Concentrate on your driving, Grayson," he muttered. "I can see the headlines now: Rich Kid Drives Porsche into Gotham Woods!" 

Focusing on his driving, Dick took the two-lane, tree-lined drive from Wayne Manor, his stately home in the country, at a speed the Gotham County Sheriff's Department would frown upon. Dick enjoyed the feel of power at his hands. The Porsche wasn't the Batmobile, but Dick had only been driving officially for a week. Therefore, the experience was still new enough to excite him, and he took every opportunity to get behind the wheel. 

Dick remembered the bright, clear morning almost a week ago when Bruce presented him with his birthday gift, a sleek, gleaming, red convertible Porsche. A dream gift by any measure of the word... 

**** 

"But, Bruce! It's too much! Really!" Dick's words belied the ecstatic expression on his face. A Porsche! It was much more than Dick would have ever asked for. But when your "father" was billionaire Bruce Wayne, you sometimes came to expect such outrageously generous gifts. 

"You're only sixteen once in your life, Dick," Bruce replied, pleased with Dick's reaction. "You're a good kid. You keep your grades up, you excel at everything I ask of you." Bruce looked away, momentarily embarrassed. "I'm proud of you. This car is little enough, I think." Bruce paused, then added with a slight grin, "And guess who gets to drive the Batmobile tonight?" 

**** 

Dick smiled at the memory. A momentary pained expression flitted across his eyes. Such happy, relaxed moments with Bruce were becoming poignantly rare. Dick remembered a time when he could run to Bruce and expect at least a warm hand on his shoulder and a minute's time with his guardian. Now, Bruce was growing more and more distant, with Batman increasingly consuming his life. 

Sadly, the only conversations Dick and Bruce shared lately seemed to be in the Batcave, and only while in their Batman and Robin personas. Why did things have to change, Dick wondered for the umpteenth time? One day everything was normal. The next day, everything was...different. 

Everything. 

Almost like turning a page in his life. New chapter...indent five spaces...begin new paragraph. Only problem: No one bothered to inform Dick of this new phase in his relationship with Bruce. 

Dick ran his hand absentmindedly along the car's dashboard, unconsciously enjoying the feel of sun-warmed leather. The interior was all leather, of course, with all the extras. Dick grinned sadly and shook his head. 

"It sure beats the desktop computer Wally got for *his* sixteenth birthday," Dick surmised aloud. As he drove along the quiet country road, Dick's mind went back almost a year, to the previous summer. He, Bruce, and Alfred were set to go to Cancun on a real vacation. The first one Bruce had taken in almost ten years... 

**** 

"Master Dick," Alfred said punctiliously, "have you finished your packing?" 

"Yeah, Alfie," Dick said, unconcernedly waving his hand in the general direction of his bags. He was lying on top of his bedcovers, listening to something that Alfred assumed was music. Alfred rolled his eyes upward, and then proceeded to unpack and repack Dick's clothing. 

Dick grinned and watched, secretly pleased by Alfred's thoroughly piqued expression. Dick didn't bother to do a decent job with his packing because he knew that no matter how well he did it, Alfred would nevertheless repack it. Dick figured that even if Alfred groused all the while, he actually enjoyed doing it. So, why deny Alfred his fun? 

That's when they saw it: the Bat-Signal! 

By the time Dick made it downstairs to the Batcave, Batman was already dressed and working behind the computer terminals. 

"Two-Face," Batman explained succinctly. Dick blinked, then nodded in understanding, hurrying to the uniform vault. Dick changed quickly and emerging, rushed over to where Batman was running a computer search. 

"He's escaped from Arkham," Batman continued as soon as Robin joined him. "I should've seen it coming, chum," he said quietly. "Today is the second anniversary of the second time I captured him and returned him to Arkham. On that occasion--" 

"--On that occasion," Robin interrupted, "he kidnapped his ex-fiancee, Grace Timm, who'd broken off their two-year engagement prior to his second incarceration." 

Batman's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "You've been doing your homework, chum." Batman became suddenly serious. "Shortly after I returned him to Arkham, Harvey warned that since he'd lost the most important thing in his life, then the next time he got out, he'd take the most important thing in mine." Batman stood and he and Robin started for the Batmobile. "Harvey blamed me for losing Grace. I'm sure he hasn't changed his mind." 

"Two-Face out for vengeance?" Robin mused. "That should make him twice as dangerous!" He grinned at his senior partner over the Batmobile's canopy. "*And* twice the fun." 

Batman quirked a sardonic eyebrow at Robin's bravado and quickly got into the driver's side. 

Batman and Robin answered the Bat-Signal that night. Since it was summer vacation, Robin didn't have the usual ten p.m. curfew... 

**** 

As Dick drove in the bright March morning, he recalled the events of that summer night. Everything was proceeding normally, until-- 

Dick held his hand to his head. The painful memory still elicited a migraine whenever he forced himself to look back on it. Perhaps, he should pull over momentarily, he thought, and as quickly discarded the idea... 

**** 

Everything was proceeding normally. Batman and Robin clung to the ceiling rafters located in the waterfront warehouse. Batman's computer search predicted this place as Two-Face's most likely hideaway. 

Robin heard voices below him. He signaled Batman, who indicated he'd already heard them as well. Robin quickly took out a Batline, secured it, and began lowering himself into the shadows below. A sudden explosion rang out. Robin's line broke! 

The world went black. 

As he regained consciousness, Robin became aware of a blinding white light directed into his eyes. He tried turning his head, but something held him in place. He tried moving his arms and legs, but those too were immobilized. 

"Where?" Robin whispered. 

"Welcome to Hell, Boy Wonder!" That voice! Two-Face. The villain's maniacal laughter seemed to echo eerily from all around. Robin couldn't focus on a location because of the white light burning into his corneas. 

"Two-Face! What's the idea? What's going on?" Robin demanded, his voice a dry croak. He had to play for time until Batman could-- 

That's when he felt the first punch. It was a closed-fist, metal-reinforced, hammer blow to the abdomen. Before Robin could recover, he was struck with a heavy roundhouse to the chin. He instantly tasted blood and felt a tooth loosen. This was quickly followed by a white-searing blow to the groin. 

Robin again felt his tenuous hold on reality collapsing. 

"You don't ask the questions!" Two-Face raged. "I'm the prosecutor, remember? I ask the questions! I ASK THE QUESTIONS!!!" 

"Why--?" Robin whispered, barely enunciating the word. As the nonstop beating started again, Robin couldn't complete his question, "Why are you doing this?" 

"I ASK THE QUESTIONS!!!" Two-Face repeated. "Why are you so important to him? WHO ARE YOU?" Each question was accompanied by a blow to another part of Robin's poor abused body. "Where did you come from? How did he find you?" 

Two-Face's voice rose in increasing hysteria. "You even LOOK LIKE HIM! Is that IT? Are you his SON? HIS AND GRACE'S? That's it, isn't it? Even when he was pretending to be my friend, he was going behind my back with Grace!" 

"No," Robin tried to deny the unfounded accusation, but he couldn't articulate a sound. After that, everything just seemed to blur into a long continuous crimson haze. The incessant pounding became a dull background roar. An eternity later, Robin blessedly lost consciousness... 

Pain. Sharp, white-hot, searing agony in the rib area. His lower abdomen. Face. Extremities. He hurt everywhere. He squeezed his eyes against wakefulness. He wanted to crawl under something and just curl up and let sleep reclaim him. 

His hearing came back all at once. He was surrounded by a sea of loud voices. Angry voices. Shouts. 

GUILTY AS CHARGED!! 

GUILTY!! 

Cold, evil laughter. 

Where was he? 

When full awareness finally returned, Robin's blood froze in place. He was standing, his wrists and ankles again immobilized, in total darkness. He felt like he was tied to a post, but couldn't be certain because of the impenetrable gloom. It seemed that the room in which he was being held prisoner was entirely devoid of light. If there were such a thing possible as absolute blackness, Robin believed that is where he was. 

"Am I dead?" he whispered. 

"No, Boy Wonder, not dead...At least, not yet!" A sudden spotlight immediately in front of Robin blinded him, revealing Two Face/Harvey Dent in judge's robes, sitting behind a high, stately desk. "The verdict by our two esteemed juries..." Two Face waved an arm, and footlights suddenly revealed two jury boxes peopled by several of Dent's henchmen. "...has been passed...*HE* is guilty of violating that most sacred of trusts among friends! He betrayed me with my own fiancee, and therefore, *you...the *sole issue* of that betrayal must *die*!!!" 

With that announcement, another spotlight suddenly sprang up, revealing an old- fashioned gallows, complete with hangman's noose. Robin felt a cold hand clutch his insides when he realized this chamber of horrors was awaiting him. Two black hooded executioners lumbered towards Robin in slow, measured steps. 

"By the power vested in me, I now condemn you to be hanged until you are dead, Dead, DEAD!!" Dent screamed out the verdict in increasing fury. His anger escalating with each pronouncement. 

Robin felt himself grow lightheaded. The beatings he'd received earlier had probably caused internal injuries and possible bleeding. Also, because his extremities had been tied for some time, Robin also lost all circulation in his arms and legs. When Two-Face's goons untied him, Robin rallied to fight them off, but couldn't make his arms and legs do what he wanted them to. Instead, his leg muscles abandoned him by folding under him. 

One of the executioners picked up Robin, unceremoniously throwing him over his shoulder. Robin weakly tried to fight him off, but his strength was quickly failing, as was his grasp on reality. Robin felt the world crazily spinning around him, a weird kaleidoscope of light, colors, and darkness... 

Robin must have lost consciousness for a few minutes, because the next thing he knew, he was standing, a noose around his neck. 

"Does the condemned have anything to say before we carry out the sentence?" Dent asked solicitously. Through the roaring in his ears, Robin fought to maintain his hold on reality, and blinking furiously, tried to focus against the shimmering, crazy merry-go-round that had become his world. 

"If I'm going to die," Robin croaked in a dry whisper, bravely facing his cold- blooded murderers, "then I won't go with a lie...*He* never betrayed you with Grace...He was your friend and still is. Grace left you because of who and what you'd become...and as much as love I him...He isn't my father, and Grace isn't my mother..." That was all Robin could say, before he felt the darkness begin to encroach once more. 

"LIES!! ALL LIES!! You go to your death with *two* lies on your lips! SO BE IT!!" Two-Face flipped his two-headed coin. The weak light in the warehouse briefly flashed on the coin's every other turn. Robin's blurring vision caught the strobe-like effect that first marked the coin's ascent, then its slow return arc. The coin fell into Two-Face's open palm. The disfigured former District Attorney gazed on the coin with evil satisfaction. 

"Executioners...carry out your sworn duty!" 

Robin heard a whirring sound, followed by several screams of outrage. He felt himself falling...falling endlessly into a black abyss. Then blessed darkness... 

**** 

The next clear memory Dick had was waking up in his own bed, the morning sun streaming in through the open bedroom windows. 

"Master Dick, don't try to move, young sir," Alfred's soothing voice spoke from somewhere in his dreams. "You're home, and you're safe. Everything is going to be all right. Sleep now. Sleep." 

**** 

Dick pulled the Porsche into the Gotham Library's vast sun-drenched parking lot. Quickly parking the car, Dick sat back, the memories of a year ago almost overwhelming him. He blinked his eyes rapidly in the bright sunlight, and quickly brought his right hand up to his eyes, squeezing for several moments until Dick knew he wouldn't lose control right there in a public parking lot. 

Alfred was sorely mistaken. Everything did not turn out all right. Soon afterwards, Dick began to notice subtle differences in Bruce's attitude towards him. He seemed colder somehow, distant. 

At first, Dick thought his imagination was working overtime, but soon realized that their relationship had indeed changed. In his heart, Dick came to believe that Bruce felt ashamed of him. Dick foolishly fell into a trap that a child could have avoided, and as a result he'd gotten himself badly beaten and almost killed. 

Dick believed that Bruce probably couldn't stand to be in the same room with him anymore, which is why he'd avoided almost all contact with Dick for the past year. After all the training, time, and effort that Bruce invested in him, Dick let him down. 

"I guess I'm a real disappointment to him," Dick said, leaning back tiredly on the headrest. "A total loser." This time he felt the stinging tears dangerously close to spilling. "I deserve his contempt!" 

In his harsh assessment of his personal failings, Dick omitted the fact that the trap with which Two-Face caught Robin, also caught Batman... 

**** 

"Bruce...?" Dick whispered hoarsely. 

"I'm here, chum." Dick felt a warm reassuring pressure on his shoulder. Slowly, Dick's eyelids obeyed his half-hearted command to open. He focused on the blurry images immediately in front of him. These soon coalesced into the worried countenance of Bruce Wayne. 

Dick took a moment to get his bearings. He was hooked up to several tubes and machines. He heard the steady beep of a heart monitor and several noises he didn't recognize. He felt physically separated from his body, undoubtedly a side effect of the drugs he was being pumped with. 

"What--?" Dick could barely force the sound around his dry throat. 

"Don't try to talk, chum," Bruce's quiet voice ordered. He then began to explain what happened. "After the explosion, I woke up in a small cell. It had no windows, no doors, no seams of any kind that I could find. I didn't have my utility belt, of course, but..." Bruce's eyes twinkled momentarily, "...I had a few other tools squirreled away on my costume." 

Dick gave an answering lop-sided smile. 

"By my best estimates, I must've been unconscious for about two hours. I ran a blood-works on myself after we returned to the Cave, and not surprisingly found that I'd been drugged." Bruce looked away momentarily. Dick thought he saw a fleeting look of guilt-laden pain in Bruce's eyes, but it was gone so quickly, Dick decided that he must have imagined it. Bruce swallowed, then turned back to Dick. 

"I ran my mini-snoop device along the walls, and I soon discovered a weak spot. I tossed a coupla of nitro-pellets, and--Bang!--I was out! I found myself back in the warehouse. It was empty...or so I thought at first. I began looking around, and found my utility belt. I found yours a few feet away. It was stretched out to its full length...almost as if pointing. I walked in the direction that the belt seemed to be indicating, and found...you." 

Bruce paused. This time his pain was almost palpable. 

"Harvey really intended to carry out the sentence. If I hadn't shown up at that moment..." Bruce's voice dropped. His face showed his inner struggle to continue. To Dick's shock, a single tear began to trail down the corner of his guardian's eye. The man whose inner strength was the one constant in Dick's life was crying. 

Dick's raised his bandaged arm and awkwardly reached out for Bruce's face. Feeling his own tears well up, Dick gently traced the lone tear with his forefinger. Bruce reached up and held tightly onto Dick's hand. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, son...When I saw that executioner throw the handle, I thought you were--" Bruce choked on the words. "--I thought I'd lost you." Bruce closed his eyes at the horrific image of Dick's bloodied, battered, and broken form barely able to stand on the gallows' malignant platform, a noose tied around his neck. 

Batman had never acquired, prepared, and thrown a Batarang as quickly as he did that night. It's razor-sharp edge sliced the rope at the same instant that Two- Face's hooded executioners threw the switch. As the rope tightened around Robin's neck, the Batarang found its mark, and instead of the Boy Wonder's life being choked out of him, he fell to safety. 

"After I cut you loose, I managed to bring down the majority of Two-Face's henchmen. Unfortunately, Harvey had already escaped somehow. He left a note, 'Two birds for the price of one'." Bruce paused, his eyes chagrinned. "I found a second gallows, by the way. Intended for me." Bruce's eyes looked sadly upon Dick's. 

"Harvey might not have succeeded in killing either of us, but maybe this was better. By hurting you, he knew that he had hurt me." Bruce looked intensely into Dick's eyes. "I caught him two days later. Or rather, he let me catch him. He even arranged it. More than anything, Harvey wanted to gloat how he'd managed to hurt the two people who'd hurt him the most, with the one thing we both shared in common." Bruce shook his head in bewilderment. 

"Dick, I didn't know about Harvey's delusion. I tried to explain to him that you weren't Grace's son, but he wouldn't believe me. He's completely convinced that Grace and I betrayed him. That we had an affair, and that *you* were the result." 

Dick nodded. "I know," he whispered. "Two-Face told me right before he started to...you know." Dick looked away. He should've found a way to escape. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be the victim--again! Robin, the Boy Hostage, he thought disgustedly. I should've escaped, and helped Batman. But no, I get carried home practically in a body bag. "Bruce, I'm sorry...I should've gotten away." 

"Don't talk, Dick," Bruce said. "Nothing that happened was your fault. We were both caught off-guard, remember. It was a two-for-one trap, and we both fell for it. If anyone's at fault, it would be me. Now I don't want you to worry about this...I just want you to concentrate on getting better. Do you hear?" 

Dick nodded, but despite his guardian's words of reassurance, as Dick slipped off into sleep, he felt that Bruce was disappointed in him... **** 

Chapter Two: Babs 

Recalling the incidents of the previous year, and Bruce's changed attitude towards him, Dick knew that he'd give the convertible back in a heartbeat, if that would restore his old relationship with his guardian. What Dick had admitted to Dent was only half-true. He might not be Bruce Wayne's son, but more than anything in the world, sometimes if only in the privacy of his own dreams, Dick wished he were. 

Coming back to the present, Dick remembered his location and purpose for being there. He nervously checked his appearance in the rear view mirror and sighed. The problem with convertibles is that a guy's hair never stayed put. 

"I look a mess," Dick muttered taking out a small comb. He ran it quickly through his hair, but his dark locks refused to return to their normal position. "Terrific! Enter Bozo the Clown!" Dick said disgustedly. 

Glancing over at the main entrance to the public library, Dick decided that it was now or never. The young man took a deep breath, opened the driver's side door and got out. Dick took a moment to drink in the beautiful spring day. He heard a family of baby robins chirping from a tree nearby and smiled. 

Spring was Dick's time of the year. He was born on the first day of Spring, March 21st. His Mom used to call him her "little Robin" because of that. When he became Batman's partner he selected the name to honor her. Spring reminded him of his Mom and always brought his roots home to him. 

Feeling a zest in his step, Dick bounded up the stairs leading to the library's main entrance. He wondered if she'd be there. She always visited the library on her spring break and helped out. Dick felt his pulse quickening. This was the first year since he'd known her that he was old enough to drive. And he had a real muscle car for showing off his abilities, too. 

Roy called Dick's convertible a real "chick magnet." Dick didn't usually give much weight to anything Roy said, but today he wanted to believe! 

Dick stood immediately inside the entrance to allow his eyes to become adjusted to the dim light. Within minutes he spotted her, sitting alone at one of the side cubicles, taking notes intently. There was a small, green-shaded reader's lamp immediately above her casting a glowing light on her red hair. Dick stood mesmerized, unaware that he was gaping. 

"Excuse me!" an annoyed voice said behind him. "Young man, you're blocking the doorway!" Dick quickly stepped aside, embarrassed. Recovering his composure, Dick gallantly held the door open for an extremely miffed-looking elderly woman. She gave Dick an imperious stare and walked past him, muttering, "Some people!" under her breath. 

Feeling sheepish, Dick watched the woman go. Releasing a long breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Dick finally began to make his way over to the object of his dreams, Barbara Gordon. 

"Babs! Hi," Dick greeted softly. "You look great," he added. 

Barbara looked up blinking. It took her a moment to focus on the speaker. She'd been totally immersed in her Criminology research. Abruptly her studious look broke into a wide, beautiful smile. 

"Dick!" Barbara cried, jumping up and giving him a hug. Standing back, she gave Dick a once over, and added impishly, "Look at you! Why you look almost all grown up, Munchkin!" 

Dick grimaced. "Aw, come on, Babs," he hissed. "I'm sixteen! Gimme a break, willya?" 

"Ooh...sixteen, huh? I bet you're fighting off all the girls now." Barbara sat down. "Here, join me for a sec." As Dick pulled up a chair, Barbara pulled something out of her purse. She held out the small beribboned package to Dick. "Happy birthday, squirt," she whispered smiling. 

Dick took the brightly wrapped miniature gift and returned Barbara's smile. "You remembered!" he said softly, sounding pleased. 

"Well, duh!" Barbara returned. "First day of spring. Not a birthday that's easy to forget. Besides..." she added, her eyes softening, "...you're still my best guy, right?" 

Dick looked down in hurry, feeling his cheeks burning. He wanted to shout, "Right! You bet! Let's get married! Or go steady! Or go out on a real date!" (And not *Barbara* taking *him* out for an ice cream or a movie as if he were still a little kid, for crying out loud!) 

Instead, Dick's tongue treacherously refused to formulate any coherent words. 

"Well? Open it!" Barbara urged. Dick nodded quickly and fumbled with the wrappings. Finally, opening the tiny box, he found a gold key chain inside with his initials: RJG, Richard John Grayson. 

"I called Alfred and asked him if there was anything special you might need for this momentous birthday," Barbara explained, smiling. She then emulated the dignified English gentleman. "'Miss Barbara, I'm not at liberty to be more specific, but I believe a key chain might be in order.' I figured Bruce must've bought you a car, or something?" She made the last a question. At Dick's eager nod confirming her speculations, Barbara's smile broadened. She felt happy for Dick. 

"Thanks, Babs," Dick said, taking his car keys out of his pocket. He immediately began transferring the keys to the new key chain. "I really appreciate it! It was very thoughtful of you." 

Barbara watched the younger man as he concentrated on the task at hand. "So, tell me how've you been, squirt? You didn't write me as often this year. And here your handwriting is finally legible enough to be read without a handwriting analysis. How're things at home?" 

Barbara asked this last quietly. The few letters she'd received from Dick shared one glaring omission in common...no mention of Bruce Wayne! This was highly unusual since Dick's life revolved almost entirely around his guardian. The previous years' letters mentioned Bruce in almost every other sentence; therefore, Dick's letters portended of serious problems at home. 

Yet, Dick seemed happy enough, but Barbara couldn't be sure. Dick shrugged, not looking her in the eyes. "Just the usual." Then, he grinned suddenly, his eyes lighting with excitement. "But you'll never guess! I got to drive the you-know-what these past few nights! Bruce actually let me. Can you b'lieve that?" 

"Hey, I *am* impressed. Talk about your ultimate 'chick magnet'," Barbara whispered. She smiled inside, feeling relieved. Dick sounded like everything was all right at home. "Tell me, what's it *feel* like...to be behind the wheel of the 'you-know-what'?" 

Dick grinned. "Sorry, Babs, but that's an experience that can't be described, only lived. 'Course, it's too bad you're like, semi-retired or something, while you're in college, 'cause otherwise, maybe, I could get the Big Guy to let me cruise you around Gotham City." 

Barbara gasped. "Really? Oh, Dick, could you?" Barbara hadn't been in the Batmobile before. She rode her own Batgirl-cycle and had never been given the opportunity to either drive or ride in the supercharged power car. 

Dick immediately began backing down. "Uh, gee, Babs, I don't know. You know how protective Bruce is about his *car*!" Dick dropped his voice. "I mean, he might be letting me drive, but he's driving me nuts. He's like the world's worst backseat driver!" 

"You mean side-seat driver." 

"Huh?" 

"Side-seat driver," Barbara repeated succinctly. At Dick's blank look, she explained, "The Batmobile doesn't have a backseat, right?" 

Dick rolled his eyes. 

"So...? What do you say, kid? Take a girl for a ride?" 

"First, you gotta make me a couple of promises," Dick said. 

"Name it. As long as it isn't illegal or involves me doing something that could inspire Dad to take a shotgun to your head for." 

Dick blinked at Barbara, his dark eyes mirroring his shock at the innuendo. Barbara smiled sweetly. 

"And don't give me those big, blue innocent eyes, either," Barbara said in low mocking tones. "You've been ogling my legs since we sat down, Boy Wonder, and don't try to deny it." 

Dick flushed furiously. He hadn't known he'd been staring. "I-I...I'm s-s- sorry, B-B-Babs," Dick stuttered, stricken, and looked away. "I-I didn't m-m- mean, t-t-to st-stare." Unable to face her again, Dick jumped up quickly and left the library. 

As he hurried down the stairs back to the parking lot, Dick felt a hand at his elbow. Unthinking, Dick grabbed the intruder's wrist and was about to throw him, when he heard Barbara's voice break through his confusion. 

"Whoa, Boy Wonder!" she hissed. "It's me...the girl with the big fat mouth!" 

Dick let go promptly, but refused to look at her. Barbara held on to his elbow and applied a little pressure. 

"Hold on, kid," she said quietly. "We need to talk." 

Arriving at his car, Dick finally turned on her, his burning eyes showing his humiliation. 

"Will you stop calling me that? I'm not a kid, anymore, Babs! I'm sixteen!" He dropped his voice. "I've been the leader of the Titans since I was thirteen! Batman is finally letting me work solo on occasion. He's even going overseas this weekend, and he's leaving me in charge of Gotham!" Dick looked at Barbara with accusing eyes. 

"I just wish you'd stop calling me 'kid' or 'squirt' or..." He grimaced with distaste. "...'Munchkin'! That's what I was going to make you promise, if you wanted a ride in the...you-know-what." 

Barbara stood back a little, stunned. She studied the young man whom she'd loved like a little brother for longer than she remembered with new eyes. When had Dick suddenly grown up, Barbara wondered? 

"Dick," she said quietly, placing her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. You've grown up while I was away, and I'm afraid that it's gonna take me a while to get used to it." Barbara smiled, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. 

"You don't know how hard this is for me, Dick. I mean, I've loved little Dicky like a baby brother. I got to read him to sleep when he was only nine, helped him with his math homework, and even let him teach me one or two aerialist tricks. But now?" Barbara looked at Dick a little sadly. 

"Now I see a young man who's as handsome as he's tall; who's as kind as he is brave; who's as sweet as only being sixteen can make someone." 

"Aw, cut it out, Babs!" Dick protested in exasperation. "Jeez, willya cut me some slack? Sweet sixteen is for girls! *Donna* is sweet sixteen--near as we can figure! I mean no one really knows how old she actually is...But guys aren't sweet sixteen. I mean, look at this muscle car, Bruce got me for my birthday. You don't think he picked it out so girls would say, 'Oh, my! Look at Dick! Isn't he sweet?'" Dick shook his head in sharp denial, then continued. 

"I think not, Ms. Gordon! This is a-a 'chick magnet'! And-and-and I-I was...I was gonna, uh, pick up, uh, girls, and I was, uh--" Dick stopped in the middle of his speech because Barbara was standing next to him, tears of mirth helplessly streaming down her face. She was covering her mouth with both hands in a desperate attempt to smother her laughter. 

"What's so funny?" Dick asked, hurt. 

Barbara shook her head. "Nothing, Dick," she gasped. "Nothing at all." Dick stood there looking so distressed, that Barbara finally took pity on him. "Oh, Dick, I'm sorry," Barbara said, laughing. "It's just that--Dick, I can't see you cruising the streets and picking up girls. Cruising the streets and beating up on the bad guys, yes! But picking up girls in your Bat-Love Machine?" 

Barbara shook her head. "Not you. And don't think for a minute that that's a bad thing, either. Dick, you're the kind of guy who's never going to be involved with anyone casually. That isn't you. You're much too serious." She ran her fingers affectionately through his hair. 

"Why do you say that?" Dick asked darkly, stubbornly looking away. He was leaning against the Porsche, his arms and legs crossed. Dick's body language warned all to keep a safe distance. Barbara smiled. She'd seen this pose before. 

"I don't know. Maybe it was losing your parents when you were so young. But you tend to take each of your relationships extremely seriously--Bruce, Alfred, the Titans...me. We're all important to you and you'd go to extremes to keep us in your life." Barbara paused. "Bruce is much the some way...even more so. Maybe, that's who you get it from. I mean, since your parents' deaths, your life has pretty much been identified by your relationship with Bruce." 

At Babs' mention of his relationship with his guardian, Dick gave her such a startled look, tinged with such profound sadness, that Barbara almost didn't continue. Catching her concerned look, Dick quickly looked away. He didn't want to talk about Bruce. His shame over his personal failure was still too raw, the wounds still too painful. 

Keeping a close eye on Dick, Barbara continued talking about his possible future relations with women. 

"I think that love is going to hit you hard when it finally finds you. I'm not saying that you'll marry the first girl you fall in love with, but you might. I don't see you as someone who will ever indulge in casual relationships with women. But if you do, I think you'll realize you've made a mistake." 

Dick couldn't look Barbara in the eyes. After all, he knew how he felt about her, and it wasn't like a sister. That's how Dick felt about Donna. And Babs doesn't feel like Donna, he thought. Dick stared down at his shoes and shrugged his shoulders. 

"So, would you like to take a ride in my 'Chick Magnet'?" he asked, jerking his head towards his birthday present. 

Barbara laughed lightly. "I'd love to. But only on one condition! *You* disappear if we run into any good-looking guys! I wouldn't want any cool guy to think I'm so hard up for a date that I'd go out with my little brother!" 

"Babs, I'm an only child...remember?" Dick protested. He didn't want to be forced to think of Barbara as a sister. More importantly, Dick didn't want *Barbara* to think of him as a brother. 

"So am I, Munchkin," Barbara said seriously. "But if it's okay with you, as long as we have each other, I have a little brother, and you have a big sister." 

Dick stared at Barbara and wondered if all women could be so blind...as a bat? Couldn't she see how he felt? Even Bruce warned Dick to cool down what Bruce called Dick's "hots for the ex-babysitter!" 

Dick looked away, studying a fluffy cloud floating across the sky. Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Okay, Babs...but I'm warning you. If we run into any cool-looking chicks, then *you* take a hike. I mean, I wouldn't them to think that I'm driving my *older* sister around town or something." 

"*Older* sister?" 

"Well, come on, Babs, you're at *least* six years older--!" 

"Five and a half years older--and don't make me out to be older than I am, Short Pants--!" 

"*Short Pants*!? Hey! Who's got the car here, Four Eyes? You wanna walk?" As he teased her, Dick opened the passenger side door for Barbara. Laughing, but feigning outrage, she slid into the passenger seat. 

"Four Eyes!? You'd best watch it, squirt! My Dad wears a badge." Barbara glared at Dick as he started the ignition. 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad wears a cape and a cowl!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad carries a gun!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad carries a Batarang!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad...!" 

**** 

"So, are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you?" Barbara asked casually, looking over the spoonful of vanilla-chocolate swirl ice cream that she was about to enclose with her lips. She unselfconsciously ran her tongue along the spoon before swallowing the cold and creamy contents. 

Dick watched her actions as if hypnotized, then, realizing she was talking to him, looked up in surprise, almost dropping a spoonful of ice cream on his lap. Embarrassed, he struggled to suppress his jumbled emotions. Where's a cold shower when you need one, he thought wryly. 

Quickly looking away, Dick glanced over at a table of teenage girls. They were all dressed in maroon and gold cheerleader outfits and trying to catch his eye. Dick recognized the school colors as being from a neighboring rival school, Gotham Heights High School. Relieved by the distraction, Dick acknowledged their waves with a lady-killer smile. 

Babs, stunned by Dick's sparkling smile, stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth. It seemed the kid could just "turn it on." Just like Bruce, she thought half-disgustedly. Little Dicky had indeed grown up while she was away at school. 

The girls collapsed into fits of helpless giggles. One girl started shoving another, who just as determinedly was shaking her head, "no!" 

"Go on, fraidy-cat! Ask him!" the first girl urged. 

"No! I'll die! I'll simply perish!" the second girl replied desperately. They all burst into giggly-laughter again. 

Barbara's eyes smiled teasingly at Dick. "Dicky's got a gir-irl! Dicky's got a gir-irl!" she chanted softly. Dick gave her an exasperated look. 

"I don't get it," Dick said, genuinely perplexed. "Why do they act so silly? Donna never acts like that...even around Roy. You don't either...at least I don't think you do. Do you?" Not waiting for a response, he continued. "None of Bruce's girlfriends act like that. I don't understand." 

Barbara smiled. "They're just trying to get your attention...it's all part of the game. Not all girls act silly, just like not all boys act like empty-headed jocks. Most grow out of it, thankfully. Some, unfortunately, don't. I'm sure that you'll never have problems finding girls who are interested in you, Dick." She smirked suddenly, "You can't go through life with those looks and not expect to attract girls like honey." 

Dick rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief. Unperturbed, Barbara continued, "But I think you're much too sensible to let it go to your head." 

Dick just looked at her, quirking an eyebrow almost in defiance. "Oh yeah? Well, what if I just got up right now and walked over to that table and asked one of them out on a date? Or better yet, all of them?" 

"Hey, knock yourself out, Boy Wonder. Just remember that if she...or they...say, 'yes', then you're stuck with having to go out with them. Dates with giggly girls can grow old real fast, real soon. But, then, I'm not a sixteen-year-old male who's never had a real date before. Who knows, a date with Gotham Heights' entire cheerleader squad may be just what you need, Dick...it could actually be the start of real social life." 

Dick gave Babs a sour look, then swallowed a spoonful of his French vanilla. A date with a gaggle of giggly girls was the *last* thing he wanted. He sighed. Why couldn't Babs see that he wasn't a kid anymore? 

"So, Dick, back to my question," Barbara said. "Are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you?" 

"I can't, Babs. Please don't ask me," Dick replied sadly. "It's something that I have to work out on my own." 

"Why?" Barbara asked simply. "Dick, if something is bothering you, well, you know that I care about you, and I want to help. Something's happened to you. Something serious. You seem happy enough, but I can see that something's wrong. Tell me. Let me help. I'm your big sister, remember?" 

"Yeah, I remember," Dick said ironically, "but you can't help me, Babs. No one can. I screwed up bad, and I lost all of Bruce's respect. I don't think that I'll ever get it back." 

"What are you talking about, Dick? You told me earlier that Bruce is going out of the country and entrusting you with Gotham City, didn't you? He wouldn't do that if you'd lost his respect as you say. Dick...Bruce loves you like a son, and respects you as an equal." 

Dick snorted at this. "An equal? Bruce? You've gotta be kiddin'!" 

"Well, maybe not an equal exactly, but he certainly respects you and your abilities. You *know* that, Dick! How did you ever come up with the idea that you'd lost his respect?" 

Dick shook his head determinedly. He glared at her, his dark, intense eyes shadowed. 

"I can't tell you, Babs, okay? But, you're right about this weekend. If I prove to Bruce that I can do it, that I can take care of Gotham like he does, then maybe I can start earning his respect again. Until then...until then, I guess I have to live with his contempt." 

At the word "contempt" Barbara almost choked on her ice cream. She fell into a coughing fit. As she coughed, one of the teenaged girls who'd been ogling Dick finally got up the nerve to come over to their table and talk to him. 

"Babs, you okay?" Dick asked worriedly, offering his water. Barbara nodded helplessly, waving away his ministrations. 

"Is your mother all right?" the girl asked innocently. The question set off another chain of coughing. 

"What?" Dick asked. "Oh! Oh, you mean Babs? She's not my mother...she's my--" 

"--sister," Barbara choked out. 

"Oh, sorry," the girl said dismissively. Turning to Dick, she introduced herself. "Hi, my name's, Caitlin...Uh, me and my friends were wondering if you...Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't asked you your name?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at Dick. 

"Oh, uh, my name's Dick." 

"Hi, Dick," she replied with a smile. She looked ready to melt in Dick's presence. It appeared that her life would be complete if she could remain standing there admiring him. 

Dick looked at her bemusedly. "Yes?" he asked politely. Caitlin's eyes snapped open as if she'd suddenly been awakened. She immediately started talking. 

"Oh! Um, uh, hey! Is that *your* car outside? The red convertible?" At Dick's nod, she smiled excitedly. "Cool car, Dick! I'd love to go for a drive with you some day?" 

Caitlin again gave him her earlier dreamy look. Dick nodded uncertainly. Caitlin's smile broadened. 

"Oh, that's *awesome*!" Caitlin squealed, suddenly jumping up in her excitement. "Absolutely *awesome*!" She turned and screamed at her friends, who by then had gathered excitedly around her. To Dick's open-mouthed shock the girls were all soon jumping up and down, shrieking and hugging one another in their mutual excitement. Finally, taking deep breaths to help calm herself down, Caitlin continued, "Dick, me and my friends were wondering if you'd like to come over to my place tomorrow. I'm having a party over at my house--it's gonna be--! 

"--Don't tell me," Dick interrupted. "It's gonna be 'awesome'!" 

Caitlin nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, the *absolute*--! Everyone's gonna be there! And..." her voice dropped, then she added suggestively, "...my parents will be gone for the weekend." Caitlin and her friends screeched again in their anticipation. 

Dick blinked at her forwardness. 

"Why isn't that a coincidence, little brother," Barbara interjected. She'd finally recovered from her coughing fit. "Dad will be out of town this weekend, too. And I promised him that I'd keep a close eye on you for him. You're grounded, brat, remember? No parties. I'm sorry, Caitlin, but I'm afraid that Dick's gonna have to give you a rain check for this weekend. Maybe next time...when your parents are home. I'm sure Dad would love to meet them first. That's how he is about all our friends...he likes to meet them, and their parents." 

Caitlin looked at Dick commiseratingly, her disappointment palpable. "Grounded, huh? Bummer. But hey, maybe next time?" The other girls groaned in unison, voicing their sincere regret. 

"Grounded?" a cute brunette wailed. "But that's so not fair!" 

"He's too cute to be grounded!" another complained. 

"The ultimate in cuteness!" still another claimed. 

"I've never seen you in school," a perky strawberry blonde said. "Do you go to the Heights?" 

"No, I go to Prep," Dick replied, referring to his school, Gotham City Boys' Preparatory. 

The girls groaned in unison again. "Why do all the really cute guys in Gotham have to go Prep?" one girl sighed. "It's like a nunnery for boys." 

"Such a waste," another said wistfully. 

Caitlin took out a pen, and quickly wrote something on a napkin. "Here's my number. Call me anytime." Caitlin smiled brightly at Dick, with just a touch of longing, and gave him a small wave. She and her friends then slowly moved away in a group, still muttering their brokenhearted disappointment. 

"And he had such a cool car, too..." Caitlin's voice drifted back. 

"Thanks," Dick muttered once the girls were safely out of earshot. 

"You're welcome," Barbara smiled. "Now, back to the topic at hand." 

Dick grimaced. "Please, Babs. Don't start again. I told you that you can't help me. It's something that I have to work out for myself." 

"I think you're wrong, Dick," Barbara said quietly. "As much as I respect you, I can't stay out of it. I care about you too much. Now, why don't you tell me all about it?" 

Reluctantly, Dick nodded. 

**** 

"I'll drive," Barbara said authoritatively. She stood by the driver's side door, her hand held out for the keys. "You're in no condition to drive." 

"Babs, I had a double scoop of ice cream, not a double shot of vodka," Dick protested. 

"I insist...here, gimme your keys." 

Dick sighed. Sometimes being a gentleman took just about every ounce of energy within his being. He dutifully took out his car keys and handed them over to Barbara. Climbing into the passenger side of his own car, Dick slouched, feeling entirely put out by the world. If this is what being sixteen was going to be like, then he wanted to skip the whole year. 

"Don't worry, squirt. I've been driving for quite a while now, remember? I promise you, I won't put even a small scratch on her." Barbara gave Dick an evil grin, then immediately gunned the engine, burning rubber for a split second, and taking off as if shot. 

Dick was slammed back into his seat. "Are you *crazy*?" he called. "Gotham's got a speed limit!" 

"I know! My Dad's the Police Commissioner, remember?" Then, almost as if she'd planned it, Barbara whipped the Porsche past a GCPD patrol car, and happily pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. The patrol car instantly turned on its lights and siren and began to follow. 

"What are *doing*?" Dick asked. "That's the GCPD back there. We've gotta stop! Babs! Have you gone nuts?" 

Barbara sighed. "Okay, okay...Chill, squirt. I'm pulling over." Barbara pulled over and waited for the patrolman to walk up. 

"All right, Speedy," the tired, female voice behind them began. "Let's have your driver's license." 

"Hi, Montoya," Barbara greeted sheepishly. She handed the veteran officer her license. Montoya looked at Barbara surprised. 

"Young lady, what were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself and your young passenger here killed." 

"I'm sorry, Montoya...please, you won't tell Dad will you? I promise not do it again." 

"Barbara, you know I have to cite you. You were doing ninety in a thirty-mile- an-hour zone...and whose car is this anyway?" 

"Mine," Dick said. He pulled out his registration papers. Montoya took them and read them through carefully. After a few minutes, she finally arrived at a decision. 

"Okay, you two, here's the deal. You appear next Saturday at the Third Precinct for their annual community fundraiser, and I'll forget this little incident." 

Dick and Barbara exchanged chagrinned looks. 

"Yes, ma'am," Dick agreed, resignedly. 

"Thanks, Montoya," Barbara said gratefully. "I really owe you." 

"Oh, believe me, little girl," Montoya said, "you most certainly do. I'll expect you both Saturday morning at six-thirty a.m.! Sharp! You'll be helping set up the food booths." 

The two chastised youngsters nodded glumly. 

When Barbara pulled back into traffic, she gave Dick an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Dick. I guess the car sort of went to my head. I'll make it up to you." 

Dick shook his head. "That's okay, Babs. When I tell Bruce what happened...well, I guess I won't be driving the car for a while anyway." 

"But why should you tell him? You heard Montoya. If we help out at the Third's Annual Community Bazaar fundraiser, she'll forget about this and not inform our folks." 

"Babs," Dick replied tiredly. "You forget who my 'Dad' is. You don't lie to *him* or fail to tell him the whole truth. Believe me. I know." 

The rest of the drive was completed in silence. As they approached the glimmering twin towers of Wayne Enterprises, Dick finally realized that they weren't heading towards Barbara's home. 

"Hey, why did you bring us here?" he asked confused. 

"If you're going to confess to Bruce Wayne about what *I* did, then I'm just going to make sure that I'm there to take responsibility. I won't let you take the blame for something that I did." 

"But I wasn't--" 

"No, Munchkin, I insist!" 

"But, Babs, honest, I wasn't going to--" 

"No, Dick, honestly, you're a real gentlemen, sweetie, but I just couldn't let you!" 

"But--!" 

**** 

Chapter Three: Bruce Wayne 

The two youngsters timidly entered the rarified world of the Wayne Enterprises Executive Suite, which was comprised of a series of interconnected luxurious offices and conference rooms. The spacious reception area overlooked a stunning, sun-dappled atrium, graced by charming, dancing fountains and lovely, growing greenery. Dick and Barbara took a moment to admire the restful vista. It was a view of which Dick never tired. 

They quietly crossed the carpeted reception area over to Bruce Wayne's executive assistant's desk. 

Maggie looked up delightedly at the sight of Dick. "Dick! What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you today, sweetie. Are you here to see Mister Wayne?" 

At the twin glum nods, Maggie raised a single eyebrow. "Is Mister Wayne expecting you?" The two heads shook, no, in tandem. Maggie quirked a small smile. "Let me see if he's free." She indicated a pair of chairs for them to sit down on. 

A few minutes later, the door to the CEO's private office opened. The dark, handsome figure of Bruce Wayne emerged, a small smile lighting his usually grim features. 

"Dick. Barbara. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Bruce walked up to Barbara and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Barbara, I believe that you're even lovelier than the last time I saw you. Come on in, you two. I have a few minutes before my next meeting. Maggie, please hold my calls." 

Maggie nodded, smiling sympathetically at Dick as he followed Bruce into his office. 

Bruce ushered the unusually quiet duo to a small sitting area in his office. 

"Have a seat, you two." He waited while they sat down. "Care for something to drink?" 

"No, thank you, sir," Dick said quietly, while Barbara shook her head, no. 

"You two look like you have something of great import to get off your chests. What happened?" At the kids' quickly exchanged looks, Bruce added still pleasantly, but with a slightly harder edge. "It'll go easier on you if just tell it straight out." 

Dick sighed and was about to begin, when he was quickly beaten to the punch by Barbara... 

"So you see, Bruce, it's all my fault. I did a stupid thing, and we got caught." She shook her head, her eyes pleading. "You're not going to tell my father are you?" 

"Of course not, Barbara. You're a responsible twenty-one-year-old girl who did something incredibly juvenile, just as you said. I expect *you* to tell your father yourself." 

"But, Bruce--" Barbara protested. At his stern look, she stopped and took a deep breath. "I'll tell Dad myself." She stood up. "I'll wait outside. I guess you want to talk to Dick privately." Bruce nodded. As Barbara was about to open the door, she turned abruptly. 

"Oh, and while you two are talking in private, Dick why don't you go ahead and ask Bruce why you think he's ashamed of you, and feels only contempt for you. And Bruce, why don't you tell Dick why you've been avoiding him for the past year." She looked at their stunned expressions and grinned beatifically. "Oh, and don't forget to tell each other how much you love one another. That's all." 

**** 

When the door closed behind Barbara, the room fell into a deathly silence. 

Oh, God, please let the floor swallow me, Dick prayed silently. Why are girls like that, he added darkly, so sneaky and treacherous? 

"Dick, is that true?" Bruce finally asked. "Do you believe that I feel ashamed of you?" Dick looked at him for a long time, feeling the tears of shame begin to form behind his eyes. Finally, unable to hold his guardian's gaze any longer, Dick dropped his eyes and nodded. 

"Yessir," he whispered. 

"But why? What could possibly have put such a preposterous notion in your head?" Bruce sounded sincerely stunned by the revelation. 

"Oh, I don't know," Dick began, attempting to keep a light tone. "Maybe it's 'cause since Two-Face's last escape, you've avoided me like I had leprosy or something." Dick felt the hot tears finally give way, but he didn't care. "Ever since that night...you've hardly talked to me. As soon as I walk into a room, you find some excuse to get up and walk out. Except when I'm Robin, you won't hardly say a whole sentence to me...and then only if you have to." Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I-I know I failed you that night. I should've been able to escape. Instead, I fell right into his trap, and almost got killed because of it." Dick looked down on the floor. "I almost wish I *had* been killed." 

"Don't *say* that!!" Bruce's answering roar could be heard on the other side of the door. "Don't *ever* say that...do you hear me?" He quickly closed the space between them. "Look at me, Dick," Bruce said fiercely, his dark blue eyes piercing his ward's. "I am not, nor have I ever been, ashamed of you or anything that you've ever done. You make me proud every day that I know you. Do you understand? Proud. Proud of who you are...and of the young man you'll become in a few more years. Most of all, I'm proud that you're my son." 

Dick looked up at that, then quickly looked away. 

"I don't understand, Bruce. If that's true, then why--?" 

Bruce lowered himself slowly next to Dick on the sofa. He sat still for so long, Dick finally turned to see if there was something wrong. Bruce ran a hand across his face and through his hair, then looked down at his feet. He was almost a mirror image of how Dick had looked just a few minutes prior. 

"I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce said softly. "I didn't realize that I'd been doing that to you." Bruce let out a sigh, the memories of the previous year's pain- filled night suddenly washing over him. "When I saw you standing there with the noose around your neck, the hangman ready to throw the switch, I think I went a little crazy. You looked so beaten, bruised, bloodied. Even from where I stood I could see that you must've been suffering from severe internal injuries and broken bones. I just managed to throw the batarang and cut the rope...a split second later and..." Bruce paused unable to go on. Getting his raging emotions under control, he finished. "A split second later and I would've lost you forever. If there is anyone that I've felt only shame and contempt for this past year, it's been myself." 

Bruce stood up suddenly, his back to Dick. Dick also rose, and feeling a bit unsure, walked up next to Bruce. 

"Contempt for yourself?" Dick asked confused. "Buy why? You saved me. You saved us both. When I couldn't. Robin the Boy Hostage...big joke. I deserve your contempt. I know that I'm not proud of my actions that night." 

"No! You have nothing to be ashamed of!" Bruce denied, grabbing Dick by the shoulders. He gave the startled boy a good shake. "Do you hear me? You did yourself proud that night, Dick. You withstood their unspeakable tortures and abominations and still managed to face them down with dignity and defiance. Even in the face of death. I couldn't be more proud of you." 

Bruce's fierce eyes softened momentarily, the memory of Dick's heroic stance still clear in his mind. Bruce reached up tentatively and brushed a stray lock from Dick's forehead. How often had he combed back that same lock of hair since Dick first came into his life, Bruce suddenly wondered? Remembering what Dick had gone through at the hands of Two-Face and his own inability to shield his ward from the atrocities inflicted upon him, Bruce felt himself overwhelmed by feelings of self-guilt. 

"I hated Harvey for what he did to you," Bruce whispered intensely. "He even videotaped it." At Dick's startled look, Bruce paused, his jaw working through his anger. "I didn't tell you that, did I? Harvey intended to play it over and over for me while he held me prisoner in that cell back in the warehouse. Then after he'd had his fun, gloating at my expense and the considerable pain he'd caused me, he was going to lead me to the second gallows and execute me as well. But I escaped, and as it turned out, that was even better for him. Because when I caught him a couple of days later at the old abandoned Channel Two twin broadcast towers...or rather, when he let me catch him, he was playing the videotape on what seemed to be hundreds of monitors." 

Bruce walked over to the panoramic picture windows that lined his executive suite. He stood looking out over his beloved Gotham City, the home he'd sworn to protect. 

"You were lying there on all those screens...surrounding me," Bruce continued in a faraway voice. "Naked, bleeding, broken. And still they kept beating you, long after you'd lost consciousness." His fists clenched, Bruce's voice took on a new timbre, almost an animalistic snarl. "I wanted to *kill him*...with my bare hands." Bruce paused. He slowly unclenched his fists and dropped them to his sides, resting his hot forehead on the window's cool glass. After a long moment, he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I almost did it. I almost killed him right there and then. I had his neck between my hands. I felt my hands squeezing. Squeezing. I could feel his struggles weakening." 

Dick saw Bruce's shoulders suddenly slump, the weight of his guilt bearing heavily upon him. 

"But I couldn't do it. I hated myself even more then. I destroyed all of the tapes, but one. While you lay in your bed, near death, and I thought that I was going to lose you forever, I played the tape over and over, reminding myself that it was my fault. That I was the one who'd trained you, encouraged you, and brought you into this dangerous life. I'd brought you...a child who trusted me...to *this*. A child whom I'd promised to raise and protect. I thought that I'd go mad." 

Bruce paused for several minutes, the silence between them hanging like a death shroud. Dick could hear a phone ringing in another office, the sound of laughter from somewhere in the executive suite. 

"Then, thankfully, you made a turn for the better. Doctor Leslie assured me that you were going to make a full recovery." Bruce turned and faced Dick. "I think that the news might have saved my sanity. But the harm had already been done." Bruce held his thumb and forefinger close together. "You'd come *this* close to dying...and I-I didn't think I that could face another close call. Dick, I'm sorry I behaved as I did. I think that for the past year I've been living in a self-imposed denial. If I didn't talk to you about what happened, then maybe I could pretend that it never did." 

"I don't understand, Bruce," Dick said helplessly. "How could not talking to me make it all go away?" 

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It couldn't, I guess." He swallowed. "I've told myself over and over that you're alive, that everything's all right. I've watched you as Robin for the past year. Your performance has been exemplary as usual. You've even improved somewhat...I've noticed your stealth skills are better than they've been before, and your acrobatics...Kid, if you're not the best all-around gymnast in the world..." 

Dick smiled at the compliment. He knew that his natural athletic skills had been honed to perfection since he'd started training as Batman's partner. 

"You're trusting me to guard Gotham City by myself this weekend," Dick reminded his guardian. 

"I know. Believe me, I know. Dick, did you know that the JLA satellite transporter can have me here in under a minute?" At Dick's stunned look, Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. I've planned it for several weeks now." He gave Dick an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, chum. I assure you that I have the utmost trust and confidence in you. It's just that I worry about you. And after what happened with Two-Face, I'm afraid that my natural worry turned into outright obsession." Bruce sighed. "I promise you, that I won't use the JLA satellite transporter. I know you can handle the job. I mean...who trained you?" 

Dick smiled uncertainly. "I know you believe in me, Bruce. And I know you trust me. What worries me is..." he stopped. 

Bruce gave him a "go on" look. 

"What worries me is your sudden obsession about me getting hurt. I mean, let's face it, Bruce. The superhero business isn't exactly sanctioned by OSHA." Bruce gave Dick a sardonic grin at the boy's reference to the government's occupational safety agency. "I hope it never happens again...I mean, I'm certainly gonna do my best to prevent it, but I could get hurt again some day. You could, too." 

Bruce gave Dick a half-grin, his eyes acknowledging the truth of Dick's statement. "I know, Dick. And either one of us could be killed at home from some careless accident. But that doesn't take away from the fact that I worry about *you*. Just as Alfred worries about the both of us." Bruce walked up to Dick and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're my son, and I worry about you." Bruce shrugged. "Better get used to it, kid, because on your forty- sixth birthday I'll probably still be worrying about you. It's the nature of the beast, you see." 

At Dick's clearly uncomprehending look, Bruce explained. "Parenthood. A parent may get stuck with worrying about his kid, but the kid gets stuck with his parents' incessant worrying. So, Dick, what this means is that while I'm stuck with worrying about you--" 

"--I'm stuck with you worrying about me," Dick finished with a smile. "I guess I can live with that, Bruce." 

Bruce returned the smile, squeezing Dick's shoulder gently. "Good." Father and son stood in companionable silence for a few moments. His eyes taking a mischievous glint, Bruce asked slyly, "So tell me about the 'big date' with--" Bruce nodded his head towards the door. Dick understood immediately that Bruce meant Barbara. 

"Well, she promised not call me 'Munchkin' anymore," Dick said shrugging resignedly. Bruce placed his hand behind Dick's neck and squeezed affectionately. 

"Don't worry, chum. You have plenty of time for girls. I mean, you're only sixteen. Who knows, in another couple of years, you may even meet a girl your own age." Bruce immediately ducked under Dick's fist. 

"Maybe I'll wait till I'm *you're* age, so I can date girls ten years younger than me!" Dick shot back laughing. 

"Hey! You've been reading Gotham Gertie's column again," Bruce protested. "I assure you, my young friend, that all the women I date are most assuredly 'women'." 

Dick sighed. "Don't I *know* it. Who *was* that dish you were out with Thursday night?" 

"Dick, I've never dated a 'dish' in my life," Bruce replied exasperatedly. "You must have me confused with the spoon who ran away with one." Dick smiled at Bruce's rare moment of humor. "But, yeah, Selina Kyle *is* quite stunning, isn't she? What do you say to a quiet family dinner Friday night, so that you can meet her?" 

Dick's eyebrows traveled all the way up to his hairline. This *was* serious. Bruce never introduced Dick to any of his casual dates. Dick was suddenly intrigued. 

"I think I can fit a family dinner into my tight social calendar, Bruce," Dick said smiling. 

"I'm glad," Bruce said quietly, "because there isn't anything more important in the world than 'family', is there?" 

"No, sir, there isn't," Dick agreed making his way towards the door. 

"Oh, by the way, Dick," Bruce called. Dick paused before opening the door. "Run a search on the computer for me when you get home. There seems to be a strange new crime wave hitting Gotham City." 

"Strange?" Dick asked. "How so?" 

"Strange in that all the robberies seem to be somehow related to cats." Bruce shrugged. "Sounds harmless enough, but you never know." 

Dick nodded. "Run a computer check on any feline felonies found in our fair city. Gotcha!" 

Bruce threw him a "get out of here" look, and Dick quickly ducked out laughing. 

**** 

Chapter Four: Vicky, Selina, and the Cat Burglar! 

Dick gave his formal tie one final tug. Perfect! Giving his reflection a self- satisfied nod, he checked his watch. Six thirty. He had plenty of time before the first guests arrived. There was a brief knock at the door, and Bruce stuck his head in. 

"Ready?" he asked brusquely. Dick smirked. He'd never seen Bruce look nervous prior to a date before. It appeared that tonight was going to be exceptionally fun to watch from the sidelines. 

"Yeah. Lemme get my jacket," Dick replied. Then he added innocently, "I thought Ms. Kyle and the other guests weren't due for another half hour?" 

Bruce nodded absentmindedly, his mind obviously on the impending evening. Smiling to himself, Dick retrieved his dinner jacket from the closet. The two men were dressed in almost identically cut white dinner jackets. A formal dinner party in honor of Selina Kyle was Alfred's idea. No, Dick amended. It had been Alfred's Command. 

Dick smiled as he recalled the scene from a few nights before when Alfred initially expressed his shocked dismay at Bruce's suggestion of a casual get together... 

**** 

"'A casual get together', sir?" Alfred's droll voice dripped sarcasm. "Pray tell, are we having a backyard barbecue replete with hamburgers, hotdogs and relish for Ms. Kyle's first visit to Wayne Manor?" 

"That's a terrific idea, Alf!" Dick replied enthusiastically. "Bruce, a barbecue would be so cool. I mean, no offense, but this place can sometimes seem like a mausoleum. We don't want to scare off Ms. Kyle after only her first visit here. Who knows...she might even walk away thinking that you're not some kind of stiff or something." 

"A 'stiff'?" Bruce asked, slightly insulted. 

"Aw, you know what I mean," Dick said. "Like you're part of a museum collection. Y'know, like one of those Egyptian mummies that's been dead for a few thousand years only doesn't know it yet." Dick looked at Bruce. "Well, jeez, Bruce! You don't want her think that you're, like, the living dead, do you? I mean, you're the coolest guy in Gotham City, but the whole secret identity gig makes it kinda hard for you to show your cool side--" 

Dick stopped. 

Bruce's mouth twitched slightly. The brief twinkle in his eye showed that he was trying desperately not to break out in laughter. Or in Bruce's case, not to break out in a half-smile. 

Dick grinned broadly, feeling relieved. It was good to see Bruce looking happy again. This Selina Kyle must be pretty special, he thought. Dick felt suddenly anxious to make a good impression. Maybe a backyard barbecue wasn't such a good idea after all. 

"Alfred, I agree with Dick," Bruce was saying thoughtfully. "Selina might enjoy a nice informal cookout with just us. Casual...just family--" 

"--Uh, Bruce," Dick interrupted. "Maybe Alfred's right, and we *should* put our best formal foot forward." 

"Sir?" Alfred asked taken aback. 

"Well, why not?" Dick replied with a shrug. "I mean, we don't want Ms. Kyle to think that we're a bunch of slobs, do we? Let's face it, the squalid bachelor pad motif is so overdone." Dick looked at Bruce and Alfred. "I think that we should pull out all the stops for Ms. Kyle's visit, Bruce--black tie, dinner jacket...the whole nine yards. What d'you say?" 

"You don't think that would be too much for a first visit?" Bruce asked. "That she wouldn't leave thinking I'm some kind of a 'stiff' as you said?" 

"Heck, no. If I were a girl, and I finally got invited to the 'famous' Wayne Manor, I think that I'd feel *insulted* if you didn't plan something really special for *my* first visit," Dick opined. "Besides, how could any girl not fall at your feet? You're a great guy, Bruce! Just ask Alfred!" 

Bruce and Alfred exchanged wry expressions. Bruce crossed his arms and gave his ward a pointed look. "And just why, may I ask, are you so suddenly interested that I make a good impression?" 

Dick gave Bruce his most guileless look. "I don't know what you're talking about, Bruce. All I want is to make Ms. Kyle's first visit to Wayne Manor a memorable one for her...and for us." 

Bruce nodded slowly, his disbelief apparent. "Uh-huh. Whatever is going through your devious mind, young man, I'm fairly certain that it's way off base. I like Selina, and I want you to meet her. That's all." 

"Sure, Bruce," Dick said innocently. "Whatever you say. It's just that..." 

"It's just 'what'?" Bruce asked. 

"Well, I just can't remember the last time you brought anyone home specifically to meet me. I mean there was that one time with Candy Sweet...the 'model'--" Dick rolled his eyes at this. "--who made a pass at me--" 

"--Please!" Bruce interrupted, cringing at *that* mistake. Dick had only been fourteen at the time. "The less said about that bubble-brained blonde, the better! A 'mutual friend' set us up. And I *didn't* invite her here specifically to meet you, just for a game of tennis. I gave Ollie a piece of my mind later, by the way, for insisting that he introduce us!" 

"Well, there was that one other time when--" Dick began thoughtfully, then stopped. All of a sudden, his eyes lit up in laughter. 

"That one other time when, 'what'?" Bruce asked suspiciously. 

"I can't tell you," Dick said, desperately holding back his laughter. "I just remembered...Oh, brother! I haven't thought about *that* in years! It just *dawned* on me what you two were doing!" 

Dick began laughing helplessly. 

"I could've lived a happy and fulfilling life without ever figuring *that* out!" Dick abruptly collapsed on the sofa, his merriment overcoming him. "Honestly, Bruce...I never knew. I've never even given it a second thought. I *really* honest to God thought we were all just playing--" 

"--Playing?" Bruce interrupted, a suspicious glimmer flitting across his dark eyes. 

Dick nodded, trying to suppress his bubbling laughter. "Hide and seek!" he finally managed. 

Bruce went suddenly still, his dark countenance thunderous. "You are treading on very dangerous ground, young man," he said quietly. "You'd best watch your next step very carefully." 

Dick quickly choked on his laughter, swallowing nervously. "Uh, I don't know what you mean, Bruce. I was just a kid, remember? *You're* the one who told me to go hide downstairs and that you'd come look for me. Is it *my* fault that I found...what's her name?...Vicki Vale, first? I mean, it was Saturday...You'n me, we *always* had breakfast together in your room on Saturdays!" 

"I think my advice is still fairly sound today, Dick," Bruce said, grimly. "You'd better run and hide, because when I find you..." 

Dick didn't wait to hear Bruce finish the statement. He immediately took off, flying down the mansion's elegant main corridor. 

"You'll never *fiiiinnnnd* me!" Dick called back tauntingly. He heard a noise behind. Yawp! Dick couldn't believe his eyes. Bruce was actually chasing him, and the look on his guardian's face was not one Dick wanted to come up against. Gulping nervously, Dick turned on the speed and instinctively sought the high ground. 

"Master Dick! The chandeliers, sir!" 

"Thanks, Alfie," Dick muttered, gratefully. 

"Taking sides, Alfred?" Bruce said from somewhere behind Dick. 

"*I*, sir?" 

Dick lost the rest of Alfred's response as he desperately vaulted over a sofa, leaped onto the huge dining room table, and balancing himself like kid on a skateboard, easily slid across the highly polished surface, narrowly missing an exquisite flower arrangement. 

As Dick came off the opposite end, he launched himself upwards. Laughing delightedly, Dick grabbed onto one of the elegant chandeliers that graced the Manor's massive formal dining room. Swinging from one to another, Dick somersaulted in midair, aiming towards the upper banisters. 

"You can't catch meeeee!" he taunted, bringing himself up and over the railing onto the second story landing. 

"Oh, no?" a deep growl threatened behind him. Dick gasped, laughing, managed to give Bruce the slip, and the chase was on once again. 

That evening, for a few precious moments, the sounds of playful laughter, running feet, and slamming doors echoed through the normally staid halls of Wayne Manor. 

**** 

Dick grinned amusedly at the recollection. Glancing over at his guardian's serious demeanor, Dick conscientiously tamped down the sudden snicker he felt beginning to simmer within. No need to embarrass Bruce tonight, he relented. 

The Vicky Vale memory was just one of many forgotten episodes that made up Dick's largely happy childhood years in the Manor. As he and Bruce made their way downstairs, Dick was suddenly flooded with memories of that particular Saturday... 

**** 

Nine-year-old Dick woke up excitedly. It was Saturday! No school today, and Bruce didn't have to go to work. Saturdays were a special time for Dick and Bruce. Since that first Saturday morning when Dick timidly entered the master bedroom to see if his new guardian was awake, Saturday mornings spent together had become almost a ritual. 

Over breakfast, the two would discuss local and world events, Dick's school week, pending homework, and the status of his training. Bruce, in turn, would fill his ward in on the cases Batman was currently working on. In all, Saturdays were reserved for their growing father/son relationship. 

In anxious anticipation, Dick quickly slipped on his house shoes (Alfred's orders) and rushed to his guardian's bedroom. Not bothering to knock, Dick ran up to the foot of the massive bed, then stopped. 

Dick blinked, confusion washing through him. He could hear the distinctive sounds of giggles coming from underneath the covers. And from where he stood, it looked like more than one person was thrashing about, almost as if they were fighting. However, the giggles, and...Dick's eyes widened...Bruce's distinctive baritone laughter...made him realize that whatever was going on, it must be fun. 

"Can I play, too?" Dick asked innocently. 

The smothered giggles and laughter immediately stopped. Dick heard what sounded like a surprised shriek, which was quickly muffled. Bruce's dark tousled head instantly appeared from beneath the covers. 

"Dick!?" he asked, nonplussed. "What are you doing here?" 

An attractive strawberry blonde slowly emerged from the covers next to Bruce. Dick's eyes widened and his small mouth formed a surprised "O" at her somewhat shy appearance. Beautiful blue eyes framed by lovely, long eyelashes studied Dick nervously. Dick looked at her curiously. She was holding the covers up to her chin, but Dick saw that she was obviously not wearing a pajama top. He looked over at Bruce. His guardian was also naked from the waist up. 

Alfred will be mad, Dick thought disapprovingly. Alfred told Dick that civilized men and women slept in their pajamas. 

"It's Saturday," Dick said, shrugging, in answer to Bruce's question, as if that explained everything. He turned to the strange woman and addressed her in a rush. "Hi. I'm Dick. Who're *you*? Don't you have any PJs?" Not giving her time to reply, Dick shook his head warningly. "Alfred won't like that. He gets mad at me if I forget to put mine on." His face lighting with an idea, Dick gave her brilliant smile. "I know! You can borrow a pair from Bruce." 

The redhead began to laugh softly. She sat up, still holding her covers to her chin. "Hi, Dick. I'm Vicky. Vicky Vale. I, uh, didn't think to bring any PJs with me, but I appreciate your offer." 

"That's okay," Dick said, running to Bruce's dresser. He pulled up a small chair and climbed up on it, pulling open the top drawer. 

"Uh, chum," Bruce began quietly, "that's quite all right. I'll get Vicky a set of my pajamas. And you know that's a very good idea. I don't why I didn't think of that myself. Vicky, don't you think that was a really good idea?" 

Vicky nodded, still smiling. 

"Look, Dick, why don't you run on downstairs and hide? Vicky and I had just decided to, uh, play hide and seek...right, Vicky?" Vicky smiled at Dick, her eyes dancing merrily. Again, she nodded in agreement. 

"If you go on and hide," Bruce continued, "that'll give Vicky here a chance to get dressed, and uh, well, she'll hide, too, and I, um, will look for the both of you, then we'll all have breakfast together. What do you say?" 

"Oh, boy! You'll never find *me*!" Dick said, laughing happily as he ran off to hide. He slid to a halt at the door. Turning around, Dick gave Bruce a profoundly thoughtful look. "Are you and Vicky getting married?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue. 

Both sets of adult eyes widened at the question. "Why would you ask that, chum?" Bruce asked quietly. 

"When I was a little kid, my Mom told me that Mommies and Daddies slept in the same bed after they got married." Dick dropped his eyes, then raised them slowly, meeting Bruce's longingly. "If you get married and have your own little boy, will you still want me?" 

Bruce sat up and called Dick over to him. Dick walked hesitantly back to Bruce's side of the bed. Bruce reached for his ward and easily lifted him up, sitting Dick next to him on the bed. 

"Listen to me, chum. If I ever get married and have any other children, you'll still be my son. I mean, we're partners, right? Don't ever think that that'll change. Do you understand?" 

Dick nodded, smiling broadly. Impulsively, he hugged his guardian's neck, then turned to Vicky. "You're pretty. Do *you* like little boys?" 

Vicky gave him a wistful smile. "I like little boys very much, Dick. I hope one day to have one just like you." 

"Go on, chum," Bruce said. "Scoot. I'll be down in a minute to look for you." 

"You'll never *fiiiinnnnd* me!" Dick repeated as he ran happily out the door... 

Later that morning, the breakfast dishes long since cleared, Dick sat firmly ensconced next to Vicky, within the protective fold of her arm, on the large comfortable leather sofa in the Family Room. Bruce lay stretched out on the opposite end, the morning paper covering his face as he napped quietly. 

While Vicki read out loud, Dick sat cuddling drowsily next to her, feeling warm. Mom used to hold him and read to him like this. He began to secretly hope that Bruce *would* marry Vicky. 

**** 

Dick smiled at the memory. Sadly, Bruce never asked Vicky to marry him, and eventually she found someone else. Bruce never brought another woman home who made Dick feel as safe and warm as Vicky did that Saturday morning so long ago. 

"Ready, chum?" Bruce asked. 

Dick came back to the present. "As ready as I'll ever be. Do I look okay?" 

Bruce's facetious response stopped at his lips. Instead, he gave Dick a clinically measured look, taking in his boy's height, build, and strikingly handsome features. Bruce gave himself a mental headshake. When had his little boy grown up, he asked himself. One day Dick was running into his bedroom with a broken train set, begging Bruce to "Fix it for me!" and now--? 

Girls made their debuts into high society when they turned sixteen. Perhaps Bruce needed to start looking into introducing Dick to Gotham's glitterati. Not that the boy needed the old man's help, he added. But still... 

"Bruce?" Dick asked. "Something wrong?" 

"What?" Bruce snapped back to the question at hand. "Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. No, you look quite striking in your new jacket. The cut's perfect on you. And, for once, there's not a hair out of place." Bruce added grinning. 

Dick grinned in response. He felt slightly nervous. Besides the guest of honor, they were also expecting Lucius and Mattie Fox, along with their soon to turn fifteen-year-old son, Tommy. Jim and Barbara Gordon were also coming. Dick and Bruce agreed that Selina might feel more comfortable if she weren't the sole guest. And, this way Bruce could introduce her to his closest friends, as well as, Dick. 

Dick was looking forward to the evening, and to seeing Barbara again. Even if she still thought that he was only a kid, he sighed resignedly. Maybe, some day, he thought wistfully. 

On the other hand, Dick was happy that Tommy would be there. Dick hadn't seen him since Tommy enrolled in a special music program for gifted children a couple of years ago. The conservatory he attended was located several hours away in Upper Gotham State. The two youngsters exchanged occasional letters, but it would be nice to see him again. 

And, of course, he'd finally get to meet the guest of honor, Selina Kyle. **** 

Perhaps Selina Kyle wasn't a 'dish' as Bruce said, but brother, she sure was a *fox* in every sense of the word, Dick thought. He hadn't been able keep his eyes off her through the entire meal, to the point that he'd hardly spoken two complete sentences to Barbara. 

"Tell me, Jim," Mattie was saying as Alfred cleared the dinner dishes. The group was getting ready to move to the family room for coffee and dessert. "What's the GCPD doing about this sudden spate of 'cat burglaries' that have been plaguing Gotham City?" 

"Cat burglaries?" asked Selina curiously. "How intriguing." To Dick's fascination, as Selina tilted her head slightly to give Gordon her full attention, the soft glow from the chandeliers above seemed to catch her diamond earrings and necklace in a rainbow of defused sparkles. She spoke in a soft, sensuous contralto that held Dick in thrall. 

Selina's long, sable hair, worn up in a French twist, was tastefully adorned with an emerald comb that set off her exquisite green eyes. She was wearing a simple black shift that showed off her gracefully athletic figure to its greatest advantage. 

Dick felt somebody's eyes him. He immediately shifted his gaze to Bruce, who was glaring at him with a single raised eyebrow. Grinning sheepishly, Dick turned his attention to the conversation at hand. 

Gordon was talking about the recent burglaries. His interest piqued, Dick listened. He'd spent the greater part of the two previous evenings on the Cray computers researching both the current string of robberies and any similar ones in the past. What he'd found out was enough to catch even Batman's interest... 

"Nothing really intriguing about this particular case, Selina," Gordon said gruffly. "The MO has been the same with each robbery. The perp selects a high rise apartment building, which is seemingly burglarproof, but somehow manages to break in, although not through ordinary means." 

Looking around the table, Gordon saw that he had the other guests' attention. Sitting up a bit straighter, he continued. 

"Usually, the burglar gains entrance through a window or the balcony. And it doesn't matter what floor he's selected, either. He actually broke into a thirty-story apartment once. From the window." Gordon shook his head in reluctant admiration. "The building was over forty stories high, and near as we could figure, the burglar must've lowered himself from the roof, then, using a glass cutter, broke in. However, prior to gaining entrance, he first had to disable the alarm system. A very sophisticated system, by the way...one of the best available." 

"Is it possible that the burglar knew his victims?" asked Lucius. "It seems much too coincidental that he knew exactly where and when to break in. Not to mention the location of the valuables that he's stolen." 

Selina gave a soft, almost purr-like laugh. "I thought you said that this case wasn't 'intriguing,' Jim. So far, you have *my* undivided attention." She looked around the table. "What about the rest of you?" 

"I've been fascinated by it ever since I got home for Spring Break," Barbara said. "Remember the other day when you met me at the library, squirt?" Ignoring Dick's answering scowl, she continued, "I was doing some research into any other cat burglaries with similar MOs for Dad." She looked suddenly thoughtful. 

"Did you discover anything, Barbara?" Selina asked, taking a sip from her wineglass. 

"I'm not sure, really. May I tell them what I found, Dad?" she asked. At Gordon's nod, Barbara related what she'd uncovered with her research. "Well, there's really not much to tell other than about thirty-seven years ago, there was a string of similar burglaries in town." 

Dick and Bruce exchanged sudden glances. So far Batman and Robin hadn't called Batgirl into the case. Apparently, Barbara discovered some of the same information that Dick uncovered. 

"So Gotham is in the grips of a reign of terror being visited upon us by a sixty-two year old burglar?" Selina asked, laughing softly. Dick again noticed Selina's engaging, almost purr-like laughter. 

Barbara smiled, chagrinned. "No. Unfortunately, that cat burglar has been dead for these past thirty-seven years. He was killed on his last job." She gave her father an apologetic look. 

"What happened, Barbara?" Tommy asked, his curiosity overcoming his natural shyness. It was one of the first words the quiet boy had spoken that evening. 

Barbara looked around the table. The others' interest encouraged her to continue. Within minutes, the dinner guests were transported to another time and place... 

**** 

That night, thirty-seven years ago, Barbara began, the cat burglar had already hit three other places. His take for the night so far was close to fifty grand, a vast amount in those days. 

Like the current cat burglar, the one from thirty-seven years ago also seemed to have a strange affinity for cats; although, not to the extent of our present one. However, he did at one point, go so far as to wash out the food bowl of one of his victims' pets. He even left the poor, hapless owner a warning that if she didn't take better care of her cat, he'd be back. 

On earlier burglaries, the guy had perhaps hit one or two places, max. And he'd never taken more than he could carry. For some reason, though, this night he got greedy. As I said before, Barbara continued, he'd already hit three other places, so the GCPD was hot on the burglar's trail. 

As soon as he cracked open this particular safe, located in the offices of the Wayne Foundation, they had him. Apparently, a rookie cop surmised that the next target would be the newly established Wayne Foundation offices. 

Doctor Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha, held their first fundraiser that night for the Foundation. Apparently, they'd raised close to a quarter of a million dollars. Doctor Wayne and his wife were good people who opened their hearts--and wallets--to the people of Gotham. They were honest and trusting; therefore, they didn't think it necessary to place the money in a bank that night, nor to hire any security guards. 

Instead, Doctor Wayne just put all the cash and checks in his office safe for the night. The cat burglar struck at about three a.m. The Wayne Foundation building was completely deserted. 

Completely deserted, that is, except for one, young, twenty-two year old rookie cop, named Jimmy Gordon... 

**** 

Barbara paused. "Care to take it from here, Dad?" 

Gordon smiled at his beloved daughter and took up where she'd left off... 

**** 

I was beginning to feel extremely foolish, Gordon began. I mean, I'd been ordered to stay off the case by the detectives in charge. This was their case, and I was just a wet-behind-the-ears rookie. I'd only been on the force for three months. 

But something told me...I don't know, call it gut instinct, that the cat burglar was going to strike a fourth time that night. I just knew that the three previous robberies that night had been but a practice run for the real thing--the big payoff. 

I don't know how I knew, but I knew, as sure as I'm sitting here, that this would be the Big One. The last hit. After tonight, the cat burglar was going to sit back and live off the laurels of his ill-gotten gains. 

And there was only one place on this particular night that I knew would have the kind of money he'd need to retire in style, the Wayne Foundation building. 

So, early that evening, I found a broom closet in which to hide. When everyone vacated the building for the night, I made my way to Doctor Wayne's private office. I found a nice dark corner, pulled up a chair, and waited. 

I waited so long that I seriously began to feel like I was on the wrong track. But eventually, my waiting paid off. At approximately two-fifty-eight, I heard a noise from outside the window. You must understand, that Doctor Wayne's office was located on the thirty-ninth floor, so anyone outside had no business being there. 

I heard a strange, high-pitched scratching sound, and immediately realized that the cat burglar was carefully cutting the glass. Within minutes, he was inside. And the strangest thing...I know we'd been calling him a 'cat' burglar, but to my surprise that's exactly what he turned out to be. The man was wearing some kind of a 'cat' mask--you know, with ears and whiskers--and he had on one of those one-piece jobbies, called a 'cat-suit.' 

I thought I was dealing with either some kind of a wise guy or a real nutcase. So, I didn't take any chances. I remained hidden, until he committed sufficient offenses in my presence to put him away for life. By the time he'd filled his sack with all of the night's take, I had him covered. 

I called out, Halt, in the name of the law!...I know, I know, but I was young and feeling mighty nervous. Anyway, it did the trick. He stopped what he was doing and just stood there, his back to me, his hands held out at his sides. 

I started walking towards him, keeping him covered the whole time. You have the right to remain silent, I began. Anything you say can and will be used against you-- 

That's as far as I got. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling head over heels, my gut kicked in. Jeez, but he was fast...quick as a cat! Before I could recover, he was letting me have it with *both* feet. I lost my grip on my handgun, and we both dove for it. To this day I don't really remember what happened next. We struggled for the gun. 

Finally, he managed to wrest it from me altogether. Keeping me covered, he slowly backed to the window. He warned me that he didn't want to shoot me, but that he would if I interfered. Well, I wasn't about to let him get away...not after all this. 

So, still being young and foolish, I saw what I thought was an opening, and I dove for him. He fired. I knew I'd been hit. I could feel this incredibly cold hand suddenly spreading its fingers through me. I just looked at him...I don't know. I must've looked desperate, because he dropped the gun, and rushed over to me. 

He began treating the wound by applying pressure to stop the bleeding. He ripped up some of my uniform shirt and used it as makeshift bandage. While he worked, he cussed me out a blue streak for throwing him off his timetable. I was quickly losing consciousness, and although I was grateful that he hadn't left me there to bleed to death, I still had a sworn duty to perform. 

When his back was to me for a moment, I managed to reach my gun, and cocking it, I pointed it at him. I ordered him to bring me the phone, and still barely hanging onto reality, I called for backup. 

When at long last, I heard the sirens, I passed out. That's the last I remember. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. 

I was told that cat burglar had been killed while trying to escape. The GCPD chased him all over the city's rooftops. My partner, O'Malley, told me that 'The Cat,' as the burglar had been dubbed that night, was a sight to behold, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging from the eaves with what looked like a whip. O'Malley said that it was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. Finally, The Cat was surrounded at the Katmandu Towers. He had no where to go. He was ordered to surrender, and when he didn't give up, the police sniper was ordered to take the shot. 

The force from the impact of the high-powered police sniper rifle threw him over the building and down to the waters of the Gotham River below. Although, his body and the loot were never recovered, he was presumed dead... 

**** 

"I don't understand, Commissioner," Tommy said tentatively. "If The Cat tried to save your life when he could've just let you die, why did the GCPD kill him?" 

Gordon glanced at him sadly. 

"The official story was that the cat burglar wounded a police officer while in the performance of his duty. The *real* reason? Some eager beaver cops were out to make a name for themselves at the expense of others' lives. That man could've been taken alive. Instead, because of me, he's dead today." 

"And because of *him*, you're alive." Selina uttered this last, barely above a whisper. Gordon quickly looked over at her, and then slowly nodded in agreement. 

"Yes, because of him, I'm still alive today. And believe me, it's a guilt I live with every day of my life." 

A solemn gloom seemed to settle over the dinner table. 

As if to alleviate the mood, Bruce suddenly stood and tapped his wineglass for attention. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, enough shoptalk for the moment. I would like to propose a toast...Gentlemen, if you would please join me?" 

As one, the men all stood. "To the ladies...for gracing us tonight with their beauty, their charming dinner conversation, and their most delightful company." 

Together, the men intoned cheerfully, "To the ladies!" The women all exchanged pleased, yet embarrassed glances at the unexpected accolade. 

"Gentlemen, please assist your lovely dinner partners with their seats. It's time that we move on to the Family Room. Alfred will be serving coffee and dessert there, and he promises us a big surprise!" 

The other guests gamely went along with Bruce, voicing their anticipation of a special surprise from Alfred. 

**** 

Soon the small group of closely-knit friends were all sitting comfortably around the Wayne Family Room's massive fireplace. A cheery fire helped keep the early Spring chill away. Lucius and Mattie Fox were sitting together, hand-in- hand, in a loveseat just big enough for two. Lucius leaned over and whispered something to his wife. She turned to him suddenly and playfully slapped him on the arm. 

"Look at them," Tommy whispered to Dick. "Like a couple of kids." Dick was showing Tommy the baby grand piano. Tommy gasped in delight at its clear tones and immediately began playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. 

Dick smiled as he stood next to his childhood friend, watching and listening as Tommy played. The Fox's twenty-year marriage had been a constant presence in Dick's life. Lucius and Mattie were practically family, and Dick cared for Tommy like a kid brother. 

Dick shook his head ruefully. For an only child, you sure have a lot of 'siblings', Grayson. 

He looked over to where Bruce and Selina were sitting, strangely apart, on the large leather sofa immediately in front of the fireplace. Dick narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully. What's with that, he wondered? He didn't wonder long, however, because at that moment, he caught sight of Barbara standing in the dimness near the massive bookcases. 

The dancing flames from the fireplace threw unusual combinations of shadows and light in her direction. Dick saw how her flaming red hair seemed to just naturally glow by the firelight. She looked like a sunset at midnight, he mused. 

"Jim, if you'll pardon my ghoulish curiosity," Selina called over the quiet murmur of conversation, "this cat burglar still has me fascinated. If the others wouldn't mind, I'm dying to hear some more about the current one." She paused, almost like a guilty child caught doing something naughty. 

"Well, if the others don't mind me talking cop shop," Gordon replied. 

"Heavens no, Jim! I'm also dying to hear more," Mattie assured him. 

"Me, too," chimed in Tommy, pausing, then continuing with his playing. 

"I'm also interested, Jim," admitted Bruce. 

"Very well, Selina," Gordon said smiling. "What else would you like to know about the perp?" 

"'Perp'? 'He?'" Selina asked distastefully. "Are you implying that you know your 'cat burglar' is a 'he', Jim?" 

"No, no not at all. We have no clue as to the burglar's gender." 

"That's an interesting point, Jim," Bruce broke in. "Have you managed to tie in any female cat burglar MOs to our current thief?" 

"Bruce, I haven't been able to determine *any*thing about our perp," Gordon said tiredly, "other than he or she has a fondness for cats." 

"Cats?" Fox asked. "Like the previous cat burglar?" 

"Yes," Gordon said nodding. "Cats. But unlike the first cat burglar who broke into office buildings and private homes alike for the simple purpose of robbing them, the current burglar has broken only into homes and apartments that have a housecat. Usually, the burglar washes the cat's bowl and leaves it clean and dry on the kitchen countertop." 

Gordon shrugged his shoulders. 

"Unlike his predecessor, he's never left any letters threatening reprisals if the owners don't clean up their act. However, on at least two occasions, the burglar has done more than just wash the food bowl, he's dumped the litter box in the middle of the living room and taken the cat." He looked around the table helplessly. "I don't know...you tell me why he'd steal a house cat. It's got *me* stumped!" 

"Maybe the burglar likes cats and he or she is telling the cat owners to take better care of their pets," offered Tommy shyly. 

Dick smiled at him and jumped in with his own two cents. "Sure, Commissioner," Dick chimed in. "Maybe the reason the burglar took the house cats is because they were being mistreated. I know that one act of kindness doesn't take away from the fact that the burglar stole some expensive jewelry and a large amount of cash. But maybe the burglar is only casing places that *have* cats, which for what ever reason, he or she believes are being abused." 

"That's quite an astute observation, Dick...Tommy," Selina interjected. "Perhaps these young men have a point, Jim. Perhaps, your 'cat burglar' is merely giving back some grief to people that he or she believes have been either cruel or negligent in the care of their innocent household pets?" 

"You may be onto something, boys...Selina," Gordon said thoughtfully. "I'll have my lead detectives look into it first thing tomorrow." 

"What about 'Batman'?" Selina asked. 

"What?! Batman?!" Gordon asked, almost spewing out his drink. He quickly dabbed at his lips. "Forgive me, Selina, but the GCPD doesn't bother Batman over a string of 'cat burglaries' or 'cat-nappings' for that matter. The Dark Knight has enough on his plate with crazies like the Joker and Two-Face. There's no reason to bother him with the frightening crime wave of the Cat Burglar!" 

The other guests laughed lightly at Gordon's quip. Selina's soft, purr-like laugh left Dick a bit reticent. Giving himself a mental headshake, Dick smiled to himself. So far, the evening had gone well. The others were utterly disarmed by Selina, and Dick liked her from the start. She was beautiful, gracious, intelligent, and completely charming. Dick felt that she would make a perfect match for Bruce. 

Plus, Bruce was obviously smitten by her. 

"Excuse me, sir," Alfred spoke up from the doorway. "But all is in readiness." 

Bruce gave Alfred a brief nod, then turning to the others, he stood. "Ladies and gentlemen. It's always special to share a meal with friends and family." The others nodded in agreement. "But when we are gathered on the occasion of not one, but two birthdays...then, the occasion becomes even more memorable." 

Bruce faced Dick. "Dick, I know that sometimes the old man forgets that you're growing up. But I assure you that only a blind man wouldn't notice tonight just how much you've grown and matured since the first day you walked into my life, a small scared kid, with a pair of bright blue eyes that could tear a guy's heart out." Bruce swallowed, getting his emotions under tight control. "Dick, I'm proud of who you are, and I'm proud of who you're going to be. And more than anything else I've ever done in my life, Son, I'm proud...and grateful...for the privilege of watching you grow all these years." 

Dick stood slowly, stunned by the public tribute from Bruce. He blinked rapidly to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears. Unable to articulate a coherent answer, Dick stood silently, holding his guardian's gaze for a long moment. To lighten the mood, Bruce added, "And no, Dick, you don't get another car out of me this year." 

The room erupted in a light smattering of relieved laughter. Barbara ran quickly up to Dick and hugged him. "You might be all grown up, Dick," she whispered fiercely, "but you're still a squirt." Smiling teasingly, Barbara gave Dick a quick, sisterly peck on the cheek, then moved over to sit next to her father. 

Bruce walked over to stand next to his boy, and placed his hand warmly on Dick's shoulder. He gave Dick a half-smile, then turned and nodded at Lucius and Mattie. Lucius immediately stood. 

"Tommy, when I held you for the first time," Lucius began, "you were only five minutes old. It was love at first sight. That was fifteen years ago, next week, and my love for you hasn't dimmed. Son, your mother and I couldn't be prouder of you, or love you more than we do right now." 

"Tommy," Mattie began, "you're my baby boy, and you always will be. But tonight, one week before you turn fifteen, your Daddy and I want to--" Mattie stopped, overcome with emotion. 

"Your mother and I want to tell you that we are proud...so very proud...of the young man that you've become." Lucius paused, near tears. "We love you, Tommy." 

Tommy cried out and ran into his parents' arms. Like Bruce, Lucius tried to lighten the mood by adding, "And no, you don't get your presents until next week!" The others laughed lightly. 

The lights to the family room suddenly went out. Before the gasps of surprise from the guests could turn into real panic, Alfred appeared at the double doors, a giant birthday cake before him. The room burst into spontaneous applause, accompanied by a smattering of ooh's and ahh's. 

The cake had two 'numeral candles' on the center: 15 and 16, which were in turn surrounded by the appropriate amount of lit candles. In blue and yellow lettering, the words 'Happy Birthday, Dick and Tommy' were written in lovely script on the face. 

Dick and Tommy grinned delightedly, and their friends and family began to sing "Happy Birthday" to them. The youngsters each quickly made a wish and blew out their respective candles. 

The rest of the evening wound down all too soon. Dick didn't really have a chance to speak to Barbara, but he and Tommy entertained the other guests with a musical interlude, Tommy on the piano; Dick with his guitar. They selected a simple John Denver tune that they both knew well, with Dick doing the vocals in his clear tenor. 

"Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me? **** Lady, my sweet lady, I'm as close as I can be I swear to you our time has just begun." 

"Dick," Lucius said into the stunned silence that followed the kids' performance, "any time you want, I think that I can get you an audition at Tommy's music conservatory." 

Dick dropped his head, embarrassed. "Thanks, Mister Fox," he managed. Barbara walked up to him. 

"Dick, I didn't know you could sing so well. And Tommy, your playing is as lovely as ever." The youngsters smiled at the compliments. Dick wished privately that Barbara knew the song was meant for her. 

"Dick, Tommy," Selina said coming up to them. "Thank you both so much. I *love* that song...my father used to sing it all the time when I was a little girl." She stopped, suddenly, as if she'd said too much. Then smiling graciously, she thanked them again. 

Bruce came up behind her, and gently placed his hands on her arms. "Are you ready to go home, Selina?" he asked. Turning to him, Selina gave him a smile whose force Dick could feel, all the way over where he was sitting. 

Grinning to himself, Dick crossed his fingers, and quietly repeated his birthday wish. "She's the one for him. Please, don't let anything spoil it for them." 

"What did you say, squirt?" Barbara asked. At his dark look, she gave him an apologetic smile. "I mean, 'what did you say, Dick'?" she amended. 

"Nothing," Dick said, shaking his head. "A birthday wish can't come true if you tell it to others. And this is *one* birthday wish that I'm gonna do everything in my power to make come true." 

The guests were all slowly saying their good-byes and making their way to the front entrance. 

"A lovely evening, Bruce," Mattie said. 

"Dick, don't be a stranger," Tommy added, shaking his hand. "Write me! I miss my Gotham friends!" 

"Thanks for having us, Bruce," Gordon said. "Hopefully, by the time I see you again, this 'cat burglar' mess will be over." 

"Selina, it was wonderful meeting you," Barbara said. "I hope to see you again, soon." 

"Yes, Selina," Mattie called, "I'm having a little brunch next Wednesday for some of the executive wives from Wayne Enterprises. We'd love to have you. Please, don't make up your mind now. I'll call you on Tuesday." 

Selina nodded her head, while giving Bruce a 'Help me out, here' look. Bruce simply smiled at her. As the other guests finally drove off, Bruce turned to her. 

"Better get used to it, Selina. I'm afraid that Mattie Fox has been trying to marry me off since I graduated from college. If she has any say in it, you're the next target of opportunity." 

Selina looked seriously at Bruce. 

"Would you prefer that I don't attend?" she asked. 

"Are you kidding? Mattie is part of my strategic plan to wear down your resistance." 

"What resistance?" Selina asked suggestively. They immediately looked lost in each other. 

Dick, who'd been watching their by-play amusedly, decided that it was time to make his exit. "Uh, Ms. Kyle," he began, clearing his throat. 

Bruce and Selina turned as one; they'd obviously forgotten all about him. 

"Um, I, uh, just wanted to say that, uh, it's been a real pleasure. I mean, that--" 

"Dick, please call me, Selina," she requested. Selina walked up to him and gently lay her hand on his arm. "And it's been a real pleasure for me to meet you, too. I was very worried about you, you know." At his startled look, she nodded for emphasis. "Oh, yes...meeting the teenage son is always one of life's awkward moments, but you made it easy for me. And I appreciate it." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush furiously. "Happy birthday, Dick. And many happy returns." 

Dick smiled at her, then looked quickly over at Bruce, who was watching them with a slight smile. Unable to meet their eyes, Dick looked down quickly. "I- I'm really happy that you both like each other so much. If-if you were ever worried about me...how I'd feel about it...don't be...I-I couldn't be happier for Bruce or for you, Ms., uh, S-Selina." With that, Dick turned and quickly went up to his room. 

**** 

Chapter Five: Catwoman and the Tigers' Lair! 

Robin flitted through the deep shadows afforded by the manmade canyons of Gotham City's skyscrapers as easily as one born to the high wire. The teenaged vigilante flew with an exuberance he rarely allowed himself. 

Tonight, the city belonged to him. 

Batman was overseas and he'd entrusted the safety of his beloved Gotham to his junior partner, Robin the Boy Wonder. And Robin was not about to let his mentor and senior partner down. 

Landing easily on the eaves of the Gotham Cathedral, an eerie gothic structure comprised of frightening gargoyles and flying buttresses, Robin took up a position on one of the cathedral's towering gothic spires. He surveyed the city far below. 

As he watched the lights of passing motorcars mingling with the garish neon false suns that turned the Gotham night into a scene out of Dante's Inferno, Robin recalled the long years of training and hard work that finally led to his being here tonight, working solo. 

Commissioner Gordon hadn't been exactly thrilled, Robin thought wryly. In fact, he'd been downright displeased... 

**** 

"What! Alone? You're going after these people alone?" Gordon stood on the rooftop of GCPD Headquarters, the Batsignal still sending its summons into the clear, moonlit night. 

"No offense, son," Gordon said, irritated. "You know I only have the greatest respect and admiration for you. But, Robin, understand that these men are vicious. They've already left a trail of blood and gore that would give even the most experienced police officers pause." Gordon jammed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "No, Robin. I'm sorry." Gordon waved dismissively at the Boy Wonder as he turned and started walking back towards the rooftop entrance. "I won't be responsible for sending a mere child to face these thugs alone." 

At the door, Gordon turned to once again address the teen hero. 

"And another thing--" Gordon never finished. He was alone on the rooftop. Gordon felt a familiar eerie feeling wash through him. "Like father, like son," he muttered... 

**** 

"Looks like I have to prove myself to Gordon as well as Batman," Robin said. He grinned rakishly. "Oh, well. I *love* a challenge!" 

With that, Robin dove off the gothic spires of the Gotham Cathedral and allowed himself to enjoy the adrenaline rush he always felt during free fall. As the ground rushed up to meet him, Robin calmly shot out a safety line to the adjoining building and allowed his momentum to swing him in a smooth arc to his next stop. 

"Woo-hoo!" he cried out with boyish enthusiasm. 

Robin felt like a kid during recess. 

For if the Batcave had been the world's greatest playroom for little Dicky as he grew up under Batman's stern tutelage, then the Gotham City skyline was the world's greatest playground. Batman might view his one-man mission with a humorless single-mindedness of purpose, but Robin saw no reason why he couldn't do his job *and* have some fun, too. 

When he became Batman's partner, Robin entered the world's most dangerous game. At sixteen, he was now a player in the major leagues, expected to face off against some of the worst scum that Gotham City, the country's most dangerous urban backdrop, could offer. 

"Yeah, I'm a player, all right," he muttered. "A rookie player." And tonight, Robin had a gut feeling that all he met were going to put him to the test... 

**** 

The vicious thug slapped her again, drawing blood. Thelma gasped at the sharp pain. Her head was suddenly yanked back painfully by the hair. Thelma could feel his harsh, hot breath near her face. 

"I asked you nicely," he grunted, squeezing her exposed neck for added emphasis. "Next time, I won't ask so nice. Now where *is* he?" He struck her again, this time close-fisted. Thelma felt her left eye instantly swell shut from the impact. 

"I don't *know*," Thelma moaned. "I swear I don't--" 

SLAP!! 

Thelma cried out again. She closed her good eye against the ongoing horror before her. Her lips were badly swollen and bleeding. A dark, bruise was spreading rapidly across both her cheeks. A steady red stream flowed from both nostrils and from the corner of her mouth. 

"Mister Thorne don't like Leo Maxie moving in on his territory, see?" SLAP! "Me and the boys don't like it when Mister Thorne is unhappy, see?" SLAP! "Now where are Maxie's boys hitting tonight?!" 

Thelma mutely shook her head, no, and waited, exhausted and in excruciating pain, for the next blow. Thorne's henchman had established a sort of grim rhythm to his interrogation, with his relentless blows coming at such regular intervals that Thelma actually began to get a kind of perverse comfort in knowing what was coming. 

But the next blow didn't come. 

"Stubborn dame, eh? Okay, my old man knew how to take care of stubborn dames. He knew how to make my old lady toe the line. I learned a lot from my old man about dealing with women." Thelma felt him move away slightly. "Hey, Normie, pass me your cigarette butt. Let's see how closed mouth this broad's gonna be when I start marking her pretty face!" 

"No...please," Thelma felt a scream of terror begin to well up within her throat. She struggled against her bonds in a helpless panic. "Please...don't!" she whimpered. "I don't know where they are...I swear, I don't..." 

"Yeah, yeah...you're breaking my heart, Thelma. Leo Maxie don't do nuthin' without first talking to you about it. We know who wears the pants in Maxie's gang. The whole city knows it. Now, you gonna tell me what I wanna know...or is your next doctor's appointment gonna be with the plastic surgeon?" 

Thelma turned her face away in a useless attempt to protect herself. "Please..." she whimpered softly. "Please, don't hurt me..." 

"Wrong answer, Thelma," Thorne's henchman said mockingly. 

Thelma's scream was that of a cornered animal. "*Dooonnnn'ttt*!!!" 

The threatened attack never materialized. Instead, a gentle, caring voice...a very young male voice, her vast experience with men told her...was asking her if she was all right. She felt like laughing. 

Of course, I'm not all right, kid, she wanted to shout. Are you stupid or something? Rupert Thorne's goons just worked me over! What a stupid question... 

The young voice was accompanied by careful, gentle hands that first untied her, then swept her up tenderly. 

"Don't worry, ma'am," he said fiercely, "everything's going to be all right. I promise." She felt herself being laid down with great consideration for her injuries. The soft warmth of a blanket soon enveloped her. She felt herself slipping into oblivion. 

"No," Thelma whispered. "I can't sleep...got to stay awake." She forced her eyelids to flutter open and fought to focus her blurred vision. Thelma concentrated on a brilliant, yellow, red, and green figure an arm's length from her. As her dancing vision settled, gathering the various jigsaw puzzle pieces together, Thelma successfully separated the three bright hues into distinct patterns. 

A young, handsome face, partially obscured by a mask, smiled at her. 

"Help is on the way, ma'am. Just lie there quietly. I promise, I won't leave you alone. Magilla Gorilla and his three apes over there won't be bothering you for a long time." 

The boy pointed with chin. Four men lay crumpled, unconscious on the floor. They didn't look like they'd wake up anytime soon. 

"How did you--?" she started. 

"Trade secret," he said, giving her a devil-may-care smile. The boy's bright costume...his underlying bravado and sincere kindness reminded Thelma of rumors she'd heard from Maxie's men about a kid who partnered with the terrifying hunter of the night, the Batman. 

They'd talked amongst themselves in awed whispers about a kid who offset the Dark Knight's grim appearance with his own vivid costume. They'd talked about a kid who laughed devilishly while taking out the best of Maxie's boys. 

Until this moment, Thelma had dismissed the rumors as just talk. She hadn't really believed that either one of the mysterious vigilantes existed. 

"You-you're Robin?" Thelma whispered, shocked. At Robin's nod, she felt her eyes suddenly tear up. "Why-why did you help *me*?" she asked. "I'm Leo Maxie's girl. I only got what I deserved." 

Robin gently placed his hand on her forehead and swept a matted, sweaty strand of hair from her face. 

"No, ma'am. You didn't deserve what Thorne's goons did to you. *No* one deserves that kind of punishment." He dropped his eyes momentarily. "Believe me, I know what I'm talking about." Robin shrugged and gave her an encouraging half-smile. "Whatever problems exist between Maxie and Thorne, you're not the cause of it. You just got caught in the middle of it." 

Thelma snorted, then grimaced in pain. 

"You're just a kid," she managed, bitterly. "What do *you* know?" Thelma turned away, the hopelessness of her situation suddenly overwhelming her. "If I talked, Maxie would've found out about it, and he woulda killed me. If I didn't talk, Thorne's goons wouldn't've liked it, and *they* woulda killed me." 

Thelma brought her hand up to her eyes. What had happened to her life? She'd had such dreams when she left home. Now, she had nothing left. Even the dreams were gone. 

Thelma felt something soft being placed gently in her hand. She opened her eyes and squinted against the light: a snow-white handkerchief. Thelma felt the tears spilling over. When was the last time a gentleman had offered her a handkerchief? 

"I know that we get out of life what we put into it," Robin said quietly. "I know that if we take shortcuts that eventually we have to pay the price. I know that there's right and there's wrong. And that once we choose a path, it's very hard to get off and choose another." 

Thelma turned to Robin and looked at him sadly. "You mean, there's no hope left for me?" 

The Boy Wonder smiled kindly. "No ma'am. There's always hope." 

"But you just said--" 

"--I said, that once we choose a path, it's hard to change...I didn't say it was impossible. We just gotta *want* to make that change." 

"Know something, Boy Wonder?" Thelma whispered tiredly. "For a kid...you sure make a lot of sense." 

With that, Thelma took the first steps necessary to change the course of her life. She began to talk... 

**** 

The GCPD SWAT team stealthily surrounded The Combat Zone, a disreputable nightclub that catered to some of Gotham's seedier clientele. The tip that the latest gang hit was to take place at the club came in before midnight. 

Gordon quickly ordered a team assembled and personally led the raid. Sergeant Harvey Bullock somehow heard about the hit and managed to tag along. Gordon expertly deployed his team, sent his scouts to recon the area around the club, received word that the coast was clear, and immediately gave the "Go!" command. 

Three officers swiftly fired off concussion and gas grenades. The ordinance was designed to render unconscious any living thing inside the building. What the concussion grenades didn't take out, the gas grenades would. All the SWAT team had to do next was the mopping up. 

They blitzed the building entering from all compass directions. The team was effectively masked against the knockout gas, as well as, heavily armed and armored against anything the underworld could throw against them. The team of professionals moved rapidly and smoothly from room to room, quickly and efficiently securing each room before moving to the next. 

Before long, Gordon began to have a very strange feeling that all was not as it should be. He and his team had been in the building for almost ten full minutes and had yet to come across even *one* of Thorne's or Maxie's henchmen. 

What was going on? Gordon spoke into his radio. 

"Bullock! What have you got? So far, we've got zip! Only empty rooms!" 

"Commish..." Bullock's halting reply came over the air. "I think you'd better get over here, sir...You're *not* going to believe this!" 

When Gordon entered the Combat Zone's main dancehall and bar, he stopped. Gordon's jaw dropped as he gazed around the large, open room. Hanging from the rafters in twos and threes, obviously struggling against their bonds, were twenty of Rupert Thorne's and Leo Maxie's gunsels. 

"It's almost pretty to see, ain't it, Commish?" Bullock asked. "I mean, it's kinda like poetry, what with them hoods hanging there, looking like Christmas decorations, caught in the glittering light from the spinning disco ball." Bullock grinned like a kid about to open to his presents. "And look, Commish," he added pointing. "Stocking stuffers!" 

Down the middle of the dance floor, an arsenal of automatic weapons lay completely disassembled, the numerous parts lined up neatly along the floor, with almost military precision. 

Gordon slowly walked up to the weapons display, surveying it critically for possible booby traps. Something white caught his eye. A piece of paper was weighed down by an AK-47's firing pin. Gordon bent down and picked it up. Unfolding the paper, he read the short message scrawled in a youthful hand. 

MERE CHILD'S PLAY!--R. 

Gordon broke into a wide grin. "Okay, kid," he muttered to himself. "You proved your point. You *can* do the job alone." 

**** 

Robin smiled to himself. Gordon and his boys in blue should've found the little surprise packet he'd left for them. The night so far had offered some very interesting moments. Robin's eyes narrowed; his face grimaced in a snarl. Thelma was going to be all right, but Thorne's mooks had done a thorough job on her. It would be awhile before she showed her face in public again. 

Stopping the gang hit provided just the right amount of job satisfaction that Robin needed. He smirked, shrugging. No big deal. There'd only been twenty of them, after all. 

Hearing the unmistakable sounds of a truck backing up, Robin brought his attention back to the problem at hand. He was currently crouched high up on one of the many thick branches afforded by a large live oak. The broad leaves gave him sufficient cover, yet allowed him to see what was going on below. 

There they were. Two of Leo Maxie's boys! Robin shook his head in amazement. The anonymous tip he'd received early that evening seemed outrageous from the get-go, but the Boy Wonder decided to check it out anyway. 

Robin quickly scanned the grounds surrounding him. The chimpanzee area was to the East and the Polar Bear Exhibit to his immediate South. The henchmen were currently climbing into the rare White Siberian Tiger's lair. 

When the call came to the Batcave, Robin believed it a joke at first: Someone was planning to steal the rare and priceless Siberian tigers from their lair in Gotham's Central Park Zoo. The tigers, a male and female, were a goodwill gift from the good citizens of Russia. 

"These guys must be wacko," Robin whispered. He'd grown up in the circus. Tigers weren't animals for amateurs to toy with. More unpredictable than their wildcat brethren, the lions, the tigers of Haly Circus were only handled by their human trainer and his handpicked assistants. 

Pop Haly's rule was ironclad. No one else was ever allowed in the tiger's cage. 

Robin rolled his eyes. "Well, I said I liked a challenge." He dropped to the ground below, and darted silently through the shadows. Maxie's henchmen backed a large delivery truck up to the high security fence that ran along the tigers' lair. 

Robin went over the lair's layout in his mindseye. Immediately on the other side of the fence was a narrow, five-foot ledge, which ended in a twenty-foot wide manmade chasm with a sharp thirty-foot drop. Beyond, lay the tigers' lair, an engineering feat that accurately recreated the Siberian tigers' native Asian environment. 

Robin leaped and easily caught the fence's top edge. Climbing up and over, he saw a temporary "bridge" laid out across the twenty-foot gap. He heard nervous voices coming from the other side. 

"I tell ya, Lenny," a high, squeaky male voice whined, "this ain't such a good idea." 

"Shuddup, willya?" a deeper voice hissed, presumably Lenny. "I swear, Stevie, I tollya that if ya didn't have the stomach for this job, then you shoulda stayed home!" 

"Aw, come on, Lenny," Stevie protested. "You promised Ma you'd let me in on all your heists and get me in good with Mister Maxie." 

"Yeah, yeah, kid, I know," Lenny replied impatiently. "So you're here. Now button it...you don't wanna end up as a midnight snack for one of these big cats, do ya?" 

No answer. Robin presumed that Stevie was chewing on this food for thought. 

"Hand me the rifle," Lenny ordered. 

"I, uh, I ain't got it, Lenny," Stevie said timidly. "I left it in the cab. I'm sorry." 

"Jeez, Stevie, you're about as useless as a broken leg, you know that?" There was only hurt silence from Stevie. "Well, go get it, you idiot!" Lenny ordered, exasperatedly. 

Robin saw one of the two figures below hurry to the truck's cab, while the second stood just on the other side of the "bridge." 

Time to make my move, Robin thought. He followed the first hood, presumably Stevie, and coming up behind him, lightly tapped him between the shoulder blades. Stevie jumped, startled. 

"What--?" he squeaked out. That's all he managed, because Robin knocked him out with a single right hook to the jaw. 

"People with glass jaws shouldn't be crooked," Robin tsked under his breath. Keeping to the shadows, the junior Caped Crusader came to the rear end of the truck. He saw the other crook, still waiting for his partner's return. Robin took out a Batarang and shook his head. 

"Like ducks in a pond," he muttered. Throwing with the deadly accuracy of a big game hunter, Robin instantly took out the second hood. Robin smirked as his target collapsed where he'd stood. 

"Two down," he said satisfied. Robin quickly crossed the temporary bridge and picked up the unconscious henchman. That's when he heard it. 

The unmistakable, bone-chilling growl of a large, feline predator. The low, rumbling snarl quickly turned into the bloodcurdling shriek of an angry tiger protecting his lair. 

"Uh-oh." Robin stood stock-still. It took all of his self-discipline and willpower to remain unmoving when his basest instincts were screaming at him to run! Slowly, with absolute muscle control, he turned his head in the direction of the animal's cry. 

He swallowed. By the dim light afforded by the quarter moon, Robin saw two pairs of eyes being reflected back to him in the dark. Robin could almost feel the Siberian Tigers' hot breath as they prepared to attack. 

"Uh-oh," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Let's see, Superhero Lesson Number Five-oh-two: How to get from point A to point B without provoking a hungry, wild tiger into attacking. Oh, gee...I must've played hooky that day..." Robin began backing slowly, a teensy bit at a time. 

"Okay, Boy Wonder," he muttered. "Time for Plan B..." He felt the unconscious man he was holding begin to stir. "Oh, this is not a good time, Lenny," Robin whispered. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay in Sleepy-Time Land." 

Taking out a palm-sized aerosol spray from his utility belt, Robin unceremoniously spritzed his groaning guest in the face. The hood's weak movements immediately stilled. Nothing like sleeping gas, thought Robin. 

By then, the Teen Dynamo was about halfway across the bridge. Unfortunately, he saw that one of the tigers had emerged from its lair and was slowly, calmly stalking him. Robin felt a slightly hysterical laugh build up in his throat. 

"Of course...*He* knows he's got all the time in the world." Stopping his retreat, Robin decided that it was time to face the enemy. He felt a cold hand clutching his insides. His parents' warnings to stay away from the cat cages suddenly returned in full force... 

**** 

"Dicky! Get away from there! Those cats are dangerous. They're *not* pets!" John Grayson sternly admonished his four-year-old son, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. The star aerialist had just caught Dicky standing dangerously close to the tiger cage. The little boy was trying to reach in and pet one of the beautiful creatures. 

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Dicky said, ready to burst into tears. His Daddy *never* yelled him! 

"The Great Valentin is a professional animal trainer, Dicky," Grayson said fiercely. He was holding Dicky by the arms, his clear, gray eyes burning into his son's. "Any obedience the tigers pay him comes from his years' experience of working with large cats. Don't mistake the tigers' fear and respect for their trainer as love for him. Remember that, son." 

Dicky looked up his father, a large tear making its way down his cheek. Grayson relented and picked up his son, hugging him close to him. 

Later that same season, a tiger escaped and terrorized the circus compound. The screams and warnings came in time, but just barely. Little Dicky, already an experienced aerialist with several performances under his belt, managed to leap and climb out of the way of the crazed, pouncing tiger, but not before he'd received the biggest fright of his young life. 

Robin recalled the weeks of nightmares that followed the attack. His parents never again had to warn their precocious son to stay away from the tigers' cage... 

**** 

Remembering how the roustabouts were finally able to throw a heavy net over the animal, successfully immobilizing him before Valentin arrived with the tranquilizer gun, Robin realized what he had to do. 

Putting down his human load, Robin assumed a defensive stance and slowly began advancing towards the stalking predator. Recalling the Great Valentin's soothing tones when addressing his tigers, Robin began crooning in a low, melodic voice. 

The tiger responded with a low, menacing growl deep within his throat. 

"Here now, boy...You were given quite a fright weren't you? I know you're only trying to defend your home. I don't want to hurt you..." As Robin circled the three-hundred pound Siberian Tiger, he slowly and carefully removed a special device from his utility belt. 

The tiger suddenly went down on its haunches. His tail began twitching dangerously. He was ready to pounce. 

Robin waited tensely. His timing had to be perfect. 

"Or I'm dead meat," he muttered. "Literally." 

"Lennnnnyyy?" a high wail abruptly rang out from across the bridge. Robin turned, startled by the sound. "Lenny, where *are* you?" Stevie came stumbling from behind the shadows of the truck. 

This was too much for the tiger. In a wild frenzy he sprang, his angry roar crying out against these nocturnal disturbances of his home. As the cat leaped and cleared the space between himself and his quarry, the tiger's angry cry changed into a screech of outrage! 

A heavily weighted, wire mesh net suddenly appeared around him, enfolding him and entrapping him at mid-spring. His enraged and frightened howls were immediately echoed by his equally terrorized mate. 

"Lenny?" Stevie called out, tremulously. 

"He's on the bridge!" Robin called. "Grab him, and get the hell outta here!" Robin quickly turned to face this new, even more dangerous menace. She'd come out fighting mad, roaring her displeasure into the night. 

Behind him, he heard the sudden roar of the truck's engines as presumably Stevie gunned it. This was soon followed by a deafening crash as the temporary bridge was partially dragged back across, then dropped down into the manmade chasm, thus cutting off Robin's escape route. 

"You're welcome," Robin muttered ironically. He quickly turned his undivided attention back to the advancing tiger. 

"Note to Batman...We really need to carry more than one handy-dandy, insta-net in our utility belts." Robin intently studied the crazed female predator's moves, ready to react. 

"Okay, Boy Genius, time for Plan C," he muttered to himself. Reaching carefully into one of the many pouches in his belt, Robin was startled by a new voice behind him. 

"Plan C, Boy Wonder?" 

Without thinking, Robin whirled towards the sound of the low, sultry voice. There was no one there! His momentary distraction was the cue the female tiger needed. Before Robin could react, she sprang. 

The next few seconds were a blur of activity. As the tiger attacked, a new, lithe figure landed gracefully a few feet in front of Robin, between him and the leaping tiger. The distinct sound of a cracking whip rang in the night. 

"Stop, my pretty one," commanded the new arrival in a soft, crooning voice. Before Robin could shout a warning, and to his dumbfounded amazement, the tiger shifted her spring in midair. Instead of completing her attack on Robin, the tiger landed lightly, and quietly turned to the owner of the soothing, calming voice. 

"There, there, my pretty one," the woman intoned, her voice a balm in the tiger's frenzied mind. The mysterious woman reached her hand out and gently rubbed behind the she-tiger's ear and below the chin. Robin gaped as the tiger actually dropped on her side and began purring. "Yes, you're just a big kitty, aren't you?" the strange woman purred lovingly. 

"Now, my lovely, why don't you return to your home? Yes, you have the little one to think of now, don't you? That's a good mother. I'll send your mate in after you in a jiffy. I promise." As the woman spoke, the tiger reluctantly regained her feet and meekly returned to her manmade lair. 

Robin stood rooted to the same spot. He'd seen a lot of strange things in his young life, but he'd never seen anything like what he'd just witnessed. Who *was* this woman? And why did he have the niggling feeling that there was something vaguely familiar about her voice? 

The lithe figure remained largely in the shadows, but Robin could just make out a graceful, athletic build in a one-piece body suit. She seemed to be wearing a mask, but he couldn't be certain, as well as, thigh-high boots. And, of course, the whip he'd heard her use earlier. 

Calmly turning to face him, the woman emerged into the dim light of the quarter moon, a dark silhouette outlined by the greater gloom. Robin squinted in the night. Were those pointed ears, he wondered? 

"Who are you?" Robin demanded, then curiously, added, "How'd you *do* that?" 

The woman let out a sexy, low, sultry laugh. Almost like a cat's purr, Robin thought, his eyes widening. Selina, he wondered? 

"Call me...Catwoman," the mysterious woman replied, as if it were a big joke. "And I didn't *do* anything, my little bird. I merely spoke to her...one feline to another." Catwoman grinned easily, the picture of a cat who'd just swallowed a tasty morsel. "I confess I was hoping to catch a flying mouse, but I suppose, beggars can't be choosers." 

With that, Catwoman cracked her whip, momentarily distracting the Boy Wonder, while simultaneously tossing a handful of exploding gas pellets at his feet... 

**** 

His sense of smell came back first. There was the subtle odor of feminine perfume hanging in the air. Where was he? 

Sound came next, accompanied by touch. The distinctive sounds of Gotham's street traffic could be heard far below, carried in by the light breeze that caressed his cheek. 

Robin finally opened his eyes. Dawn was streaming in through the open French windows. Lying still, Robin surveyed his surroundings furtively. He was on a large bed in a strange room. He sat up slowly, checking himself over carefully. 

He was fine. No wounds. No ropes. No nothing. The open sliding doors led to an outdoor balcony several stories up. Wherever he was, Robin was obviously free to leave at any time. 

Another smell suddenly assaulted his senses, causing his mouth to water instantly. His stomach growled in sympathetic reaction. 

"Oh, good. I'm glad you're hungry," the voice said behind him. 

Robin whirled, instantly reaching for a Batarang. 

"I was afraid you superhero types were too macho to eat or something." The strange woman stood calmly in the light streaming in from the open balcony windows. The effect was even more stunning than her appearance in the tigers' lair. 

She was incredibly beautiful. That much was obvious, even with the cat-mask that covered half her face. Robin took in her perfect physique, which was emphasized by her one-piece cat-suit. The costume didn't leave much to the imagination. Robin felt himself blushing furiously. 

He immediately took refuge inside his cape, a nervous habit he'd picked up as a child superhero. When up against unknown odds, Joker to the left, the Riddler to the right, Two-Face coming up behind you, a guy had to stand his ground with defiant dignity. Enclosing the cape completely around himself, somehow made Robin feel somewhat less exposed. 

Yeah, right, Grayson, he chastised silently. 

"Why am I here?" Robin demanded. "Why did you bring me? Catwoman, right?" 

She smiled, revealing a perfect set of beautiful straight teeth. Again, Robin felt that he knew her. Not Selina, please, he thought. How would he tell Bruce? These thoughts and others flashed through the Boy Wonder's mind as his hostess indicated that he follow her. 

**** 

"So you see, Robin," Catwoman said, leaning back sensuously on her chaise lounge, "my intentions are strictly honorable." Robin noted that the mysterious woman intentionally rolled her "r's" when she spoke, further emphasizing her assumed feline role. Catwoman gave him a purr-like sound from deep within her throat. 

Robin carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin. There were no complaints from him over the breakfast she'd offered him as a token apology for dragging him to her "lair." He watched her subtle movements closely. Robin might not have much experience with women, but he knew a come-on when he saw one. Catwoman was obviously toying with him. 

"So let me get this straight," Robin began. "*You* sent that anonymous tip about the impending theft of the Siberian tigers, because you heard that Leo Maxie has been dealing in the illegal black market trade of endangered species?" 

Catwoman smiled, stretching out luxuriously on her lounge. "Yes...I may not like the idea of keeping those beautiful animals in the zoo, but I've made it my business to study how the Gotham Zoo cares for its animals. The female is one of the first Siberian she-tigers that has actually conceived while in captivity. The zoo veterinary staff is one of the best in the country and making fantastic strides in stemming the extinction of these rare cats." 

Catwoman turned her emerald gaze on the Boy Wonder, giving him a slow, deliberate blink. Robin noted, relieved, that her pupils were normal, rather than slitted like a cat's. Then again, he seemed to recall that the big cats didn't have slits, but rather rounded pupils. 

If this Catwoman were closer to the larger predators in make-up, then she was that much more dangerous. Maybe, "normal" pupils weren't exactly such a good thing after all, Robin mused. 

"Okay," Robin nodded, conceding her point. "But this doesn't explain why you dragged me here, or why you've been pulling a string of cat burglaries around town." 

Catwoman gave him a slow, sensuous, pulse-pounding smile. "String of 'cat burglaries'? Why, whatever do you mean, Boy Wonder? You don't believe that *I'm* involved in these inexplicable burglaries of house cats, do you? Search my place...I assure you, you won't find nary a stolen cat." 

Robin shook his head. "You know that the missing cats aren't the issue. It's the half-million in stolen jewels and cash that's caught *our* interest." Robin emphasized the "our"--implying in no uncertain words *whose* interest she'd piqued: Batman's. 

"Look, ma'am, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you know that I can easily find out who you are just by running a trace on the address here. Do you want the world to know who the Catwoman really is?" Robin paused, gauging her reactions. 

"Do you really want Batman on your trail? Believe me, much more dangerous criminals than you have had their careers cut short by him. And there are not a few in both Blackgate Prison and Arkham Asylum who wake up screaming every night because of him." 

Robin gave Catwoman his most intense glare. She blinked in surprise by the ferocity of his angry stare. Robin might be a kid sidekick, but his scowl had been stopping criminals in their tracks since he was about twelve. 

"I don't want to have to tell Batman that I ran into you, ma'am. I don't want to have to tell him who you really are. Look, you seem like a nice lady. Why don't you drop the Cat identity now before it goes any further. If you return the stolen jewels, you can probably get probation. I mean, this string of burglaries can all be collated into a single burglary count--a first offense." 

Robin felt himself pleading. If this *was* Selina, he wanted to do everything in his power to keep her from continuing on this life of crime. For Bruce's sake. 

"A good lawyer can get you off. If you need legal help, well, I hear that the Wayne Foundation provides pro bono--" 

"No!" Catwoman hissed. "I want *nothing* from the Wayne Foundation...do you hear me? The Wayne Foundation destroyed my fa--" she stopped suddenly. Catwoman slowly rose to her full height. Robin likewise jumped to his feet. 

Like it or not, she'd demonstrated last night that she could be dangerous. 

"I want *nothing* from the Wayne Foundation," Catwoman repeated, ferociously. 

Robin shook his head in confusion. Had it all been an act on her part? Had she never even *liked* Bruce? 

"I don't understand. Bruce Wayne is one of Gotham's leading citizens, and I assure you, ma'am, he's a good man. There are rich guys who talk a good game and there are rich guys who mean what they say. Wayne falls into the second category. The Wayne Foundation--" 

"--the Wayne Foundation is a house of mirrors, little Robin. It presents one face to the outside, while it distorts the truth behind its pretty facade. This whole town is rotten from the inside out, from your GCPD and Police Commissioner Gordon, to your precious Wayne Foundation." 

Robin shook his head. "You're wrong, Catwoman. You couldn't be further from the truth. I admit Gotham City has a tendency to destroy the weak and helpless...That's why there's a Batman and Robin, to help stem the tide of darkness that seems to be sweeping in. But believe me, Catwoman. The GCPD and Gordon are clean...and Wayne...Like I said, he's a good man. You'll just have to take my word on it." 

Catwoman suddenly cracked her whip across the breakfast table, scattering leftovers and dishes in every direction. Robin instantly somersaulted high and backwards, landing instantly in a crouch, at ready. To his shocked dismay, Catwoman continued to lash out at the furniture around her in a wild frenzy. 

As she struck out with her whip, again and again, Robin heard Catwoman muttering under her breath. 

"No! I *don't* believe it! *They* did it! *They* destroyed him! And I'll *see* that they pay!" Within moments, her rage spent, she stood in the middle of the room, surveying the damage. 

"I'll make them pay, Daddy," she whispered. 

Whirling suddenly around, she threw a handful of pellets at Robin's feet, which exploded instantaneously. As the gas overcame him, he groaned in self- reproachment. "Not againnnn..." 

**** 

The cold, wet cloth on his forehead startled him awake. Robin's eyes jerked open, then cringed shut against the room's single, naked light bulb. 

"Uhhnnnn..." he groaned helplessly. "Where am I...?" He turned his head in the direction of a dim figure nearby. The shadows in the room were eerily waxing and waning in time to the lone bulb's back and forth swinging motion. 

"Hey, squirt," a quiet voice said next to him. "How're you feeling?" 

"Babs?" he whispered. 

"Shhhhh, Boy Wonder," the gentle voice admonished quietly. "It's Batgirl." Robin brought his hand up to his eyes, then slowly opened them, careful not to let in too much light. He swallowed, his throat dry. 

"Batgirl?" Robin looked up her at her cowled face. Her lovely, green eyes were smiling. Where--?" He looked around the room. He was in the same place that he'd awakened in earlier. Much earlier. Robin's internal clock told him that several hours had passed. However, the room looked different. 

With the exception of the bed Robin was lying on, all the furnishings were gone. The paintings and mirrors that hung on the walls previously had since been removed. Even the ceiling light fixtures were missing, the single incandescent bulb left in their place. 

Robin blinked in confusion. What was going on? 

Turning his head towards the open balcony doors, he quickly noted that it was nighttime already. 

Robin brought his hand up to his face. Thank goodness, his mask was still in place. A lot of good that did him, though. Robin had no way of knowing whether Catwoman might have peeked under his mask. 

"What happened? What are you doing here?" he asked, blearily. "How did you know where to find me?" 

"Hey, easy, Boy Wonder," Batgirl said soothingly. "Do you remember how you got here?" 

Robin shook his head, no. He felt slightly guilty for being less than truthful. Unable to look Batgirl in the eyes, he looked away. "How'd you find me, anyway?" Robin repeated. 

Seeing that Robin was physically all right, Batgirl sat next to him on the side of the bed. She patiently explained how she'd found him. 

"A mutual friend contacted me at home," she began. Robin knew instantly that she meant Alfred. "He was deathly worried when you didn't come home last night and asked me to help look for you. I traced your moves, but lost your trail at the Gotham City Park Zoo." 

Batgirl turned away, ashamed that she hadn't been able to track him better. Batman would've found him, she thought. Batman would've moved heaven and earth if he believed Robin might be in serious danger. 

"Batgirl...hey, it's okay," Robin said softly, understanding what she was going through. He placed his hand gently over hers in reassurance. Smiling gratefully, she continued her tale. 

"Anyway, early this evening an anonymous tip came, reporting your location. I jumped in the 'you-know-what'--" Batgirl grinned at Robin's shocked look. 

"--You took the *Bat*mobile?" he asked, his voice cracking. Even *he* hadn't taken the Batmobile, Robin wanted to protest, and *he* had permission to drive her. Never mind that he preferred his Robin cycle. That was beside the point. "I'm dead," he added, falling back on the bed. 

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. Our mutual friend insisted that I take her...said that *your* safety was of paramount importance and that Batman would agree." 

Robin sighed. "Okay, okay. Go on with the story." 

"Not much more to tell. I got here as soon as I could. Because of the building's condition, I had to move fairly slow, but the directions I'd been given of your location were accurate. I found you exactly where we were told you'd be." 

"What do you mean...you were slowed by the building's condition?" Robin asked curiously. 

"You mean you don't know?" Batgirl asked. At Robin's blank look, Batgirl gave him her signature, teasing smile. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, and I'll show you." 

Robin groaned. He had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to hear the end of this one. 

"Why me?" Robin dropped his head between his knees. 

Batgirl slapped him upside the head. "Hey, come on, squirt. None of that. Who were you after last night anyway? Did you at least get a look at whoever did this to you?" 

"If I knew that don't you think I'd tell you?" Robin growled. He felt like the worst kind of heel for not confiding in Batgirl, but Catwoman was his. 

"Okay, junior, let's watch the attitude. Now come on. Let's get outta here, before the whole building falls on top of us." 

Robin looked at her sourly. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Just this." Batgirl stood up and walked towards the wall separating his bedroom from the next room. Placing her hands along an invisible seam, Batgirl suddenly pulled. Her rippling muscles underneath her costume showed the strength of her exertion. 

Robin heard a strange tearing sound, and then half the wall started coming down. 

"Batgirl, watch out!" Robin shouted in warning, but Batgirl was already out of the way of the falling drywall. To Robin's astonishment, he saw only the skeletal structure of a dilapidated building on the other side. 

"What in the--" he began. 

"You're in the old Katmandu Towers," Batgirl explained. "The city condemned it over three years ago. It's scheduled to be demolished later this week." Batgirl let her words sink in. "Whoever brought you here, Boy Wonder, went to a lot of trouble to fix up this little Robin's nest. Are you *sure* you don't remember anything?" 

"Look, I already told you--" 

"I know. I know," Batgirl interrupted. "You don't remember anything. Okay, squirt. Let's get of here. There's someone who's been worried sick about you now for almost twenty-four hours. I promised him I'd bring you home." 

Robin just looked at her and slowly nodded in agreement. 

As the two young crimefighters simultaneously shot out their jump lines into the night sky, Robin made a solemn vow. 

I don't what your game is, Catwoman, but when I catch up to you, I intend to find out. You're mine. 

**** 

Chapter Six: On the trail of the Cat! 

"Tell 'em I'm sick," Dick said, not looking up from the Cray monitors. "Ask 'em for my homework assignments for the next few days. And don't worry. I won't fall behind." 

"But Master Bruce left specific orders that you were not to miss any school during his absence!" Alfred protested. 

"Sorry, Alf," Dick muttered. "But this is one time that little Dicky doesn't follow orders." 

"Master Richard, I must insist--!" Alfred began. 

Dick stopped what he was doing and spun his desk chair around to face his friend and confidant. 

"Look, Alfred," Dick said with quiet intensity. "I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important. You *know* that. Bruce has been delayed in Europe. Gotham *needs* me on the job while he's gone. This *Catwoman* made a fool out of me, and I don't intend to let her get away with it. I'm going to--" 

"--I *thought* that it was the protection of the city that was important, young sir," Alfred interrupted. "It sounds to me as if you are being driven by the need to avenge this Catwoman for humiliating you." 

Dick stared at Alfred as if he'd been slapped. He shook his head in vehement denial. "No! That's *not* true! Catwoman has been going around Gotham robbing its leading citizens blind. My *only* motivation is stop her crime spree and see that she's brought to justice!" 

"I see. And this Catwoman's current 'crime spree,' as you call it, includes rescuing common household cats from homes that have been less than sterling in their pets' treatment. Tipping you off about a robbery in progress of two priceless Siberian Tigers. Rescuing you from the female tiger's attack, and--" Alfred paused, placing his thumb and forefinger on his chin. "--Oh, pardon me. It seems that I've come back to the fact that she humiliated you." 

Dick glared icicles at Alfred. Clenching his fists at his sides, and unable to trust himself to speak, Dick abruptly turned and made his way to the Batcave's gym. Not bothering to change into his workout clothes, Dick threw himself onto one of the apparatuses and started on one of his more complicated routines with a vengeance. 

Alfred watched silently for a long moment, then left without another word. 

Dick worked feverishly, driven by a stinging fury that only a sixteen-year-old boy who's been shamed by a woman can feel. 

"I'll *show* her!" Dick muttered, swinging and releasing, gripping then releasing again. "Just wait. I don't care what it takes--" Swing, release, somersault, catch, exchange, repeat. "--but when I catch up to her--" Release, free-fall, tuck, roll, grip. "--I'm going to..." 

Dick abruptly stopped his forward momentum. This awkward halt to his routine made his arms feel as if they were being pulled out of their sockets. Reaching his left hand out for a nearby safety line, Dick took a solid handhold, then lowered himself slowly to the floor. 

Dick stood on the gym floor for several minutes, assessing his inner motivations. Alfred was right. Dick *was* out for personal vengeance. 

Dick sighed. "You're a real loser, Grayson. Bruce finally *trusts* you to act like an adult, and what do you do? You act like the worst kind of rookie batter who's just had his ears dusted off by a major league pitcher." Dick kicked at an invisible object. "And look at how you talked to Alfred. Like a spoiled brat!" 

"Oh, I wouldn't call you that, Master Dick," Alfred's quiet voice said behind him. Dick whirled around. 

"But it's the truth, Alfred! I *did* act like a brat." 

"Indubitably, young sir," Alfred said, drolly. "Nevertheless, I *still* wouldn't call you that." 

Dick stared wordlessly at Alfred. Realizing that the Wayne butler was gently teasing him, he broke out in an embarrassed grin. Dick ducked his head and scuffed the floor in front of him. "I'm sorry, Alf...I was wrong. Can you forgive me?" 

"Nothing to forgive, young sir," Alfred reassured his youngest charge. Then in his best Drill Sergeant's voice commanded, "You have five minutes to be upstairs. Showered, dressed and ready for school. Go!" 

Dick took off, taking the steps that led up to the Manor three at a time. 

**** 

Dick quickly fell into his new temporary routine: school, homework, dinner, and evening patrol. Because this was a regular school week, Robin was under a strict curfew. He had to be back home by midnight, or Robin's wings would be clipped. 

Because of the inflexible limits that he was forced to work under, Robin planned his days carefully, almost to the exact minute. Dick optimized any free time he received during the school day, catching up on schoolwork or required reading. Therefore, by the time he roared his Porsche into its berth in the vast Wayne parking garage, Dick had but a minimum of homework to complete. 

By four-thirty, Dick was already downstairs in the Batcave working on his current Catwoman case. Having developed a working hypothesis--Catwoman was somehow tied to the original Cat burglar of thirty-seven years ago--Dick worked furiously on finding the missing link. 

Selina Kyle...the woman's image kept coming back to Dick. Her soft, almost purr-like laugh, the graceful way she moved, her slim athletic build...Dick knew in his gut that she and this Catwoman were one and same. 

He paused for a moment, thinking about Bruce. How would this discovery affect his guardian? More than anything else in the world, Dick wanted Bruce to be happy. Bruce had had so much pain in his life that sometimes it seemed a cloud of sadness hung over him. The last thing Dick wanted was to bring him more pain. 

Dick shook his head. No, if Bruce had the same suspicions that Dick did, he wouldn't hesitate to pursue any leads. The worst action Dick could take in this matter was inaction. Dick went over in his mind everything he could remember about the dinner party... 

Selina insisting that Gordon talk about the current burglaries. 

Selina questioning whether they suspected the burglar was male. 

Selina urging Barbara to share what she'd found out about the burglaries of thirty-seven years ago. 

Selina laughing and saying... 

Dick paused, sitting up straighter. "Wait a minute! What did she say? Something about how we're under a-a 'reign of terror'--?" 

Selina's sultry voice rang in his head: "So Gotham is in the grips of a reign of terror being visited upon us by a sixty-two year old burglar?" 

Dick sat still, his heart racing. He held a pen in his hand and was absentmindedly clicking it. Realizing what he was doing, Dick began to chew it instead. 

"Selina said, 'a sixty-two year old burglar,'" Dick mused. "*Not* a 'thirty- seven-year old' one." He began twirling the pen from finger to finger. "Now *who* exactly was she talking about?" Dick muttered. 

Sitting back on his swivel chair, Dick began swinging himself back and forth, lost in thought. Abruptly coming to a decision, Dick sat up and immediately started running a new search on 'Selina Kyle'... 

Hours later, too late to go out on patrol, Dick finally put the Crays in sleep mode. He squeezed his tired eyes, saddened by the information he'd finally managed to uncover. 

If Selina Kyle and the Catwoman weren't one and the same person, then Dick would eat his cape. 

**** 

Now, he thought. 

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am!" Dick apologized profusely, quickly getting down on his hands and knees. He'd deliberately bumped into his target, practically knocking her to the floor. "I wasn't watching what I was--" He stopped, open-mouthed. 

"Selina!" Dick cried, in wide-eyed shock. "I can't believe it!" Looking around at the scattered parcels, he gulped and started helping her gather her purchases. "Oh, brother...I am *so* sorry!" 

Selina gave a soft laugh. "Don't be silly, Dick. It was an accident." She stood slowly, accepting her packages from the slightly chastised-looking boy. "Tell me. What are you *doing* here?" Selina's expression took in the sprawling Gotham City indoor mall. "Shouldn't you be in school or something?" 

Dick laughed. 

"Are you *kidding*? School's out for the day! I usually go straight home, but Alfred gave me a pass for the afternoon." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know...just thought I'd hang for a couple of hours. You know, check the place out..." 

He paused as a pair of high school girls passed by them, giggling when they noticed him. Dick unselfconsciously followed them with his eyes. Feeling Selina's gaze on him, he turned to her, smiling sheepishly. 

"Check out the sights," he added, humorously waggling his eye brows. 

"I see," Selina said, returning his smile. "Well, if it wouldn't ruin your reputation, would you care to join me for a quick bite? I was just about to take a dinner break." 

Dick turned on his best smile. "Oh, please! Spending time with you, Selina, can only *enhance* my reputation! In fact," he added sotto voce, "a couple of my classmates are standing over there turning slightly green." Offering to take her packages, Dick and Selina started walking towards the mall food court. 

As they sat with their fast food selections, Dick pointed at Selina's taco salad with his fork. He'd opted for a Greek salad and a side of bread sticks. 

"Funny, you don't seem the type," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, you look so, um, *athletic* and *fit*, I guess." He blushed suddenly, remembering the Catwoman costume. 

Selina's eyes smiled at him. "Oh, I'm full of vices, Dick," she warned. "You'd be surprised." 

I'll bet you are, he thought, darkly. Smiling guilelessly, Dick concentrated on his salad for a several moments. Finally, as if overcome with curiosity, he asked, "Selina...you don't have to answer this if you don't want to...I mean it's really none of my business, but--" 

Dick looked away momentarily, as if gauging his next words. 

"Now you've got me interested," Selina said. "Go on. But what--?" she nudged him. 

"Well, Bruce hasn't really talked to me about it, and I was kinda wondering...How did you two meet? I mean, one day Bruce is his usual taciturn self. Asking me if I've done my homework and what am I studying in school. The next day, he's telling me he'd like me to meet you." 

"And having you meet me...that's unusual?" Selina's voice was carefully neutral, but Dick could tell that her interest was piqued. 

"Heck, yeah!" Dick replied. "I mean, Bruce has a real playboy reputation in town and everything, but it's all gossip. Really!" He caught Selina's disbelieving gaze and blushed. "Well...mostly, anyway. At least, I *think* it is--" Dick felt himself stumbling. This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go, he scolded himself! 

"Never mind all that," Selina said. "I don't think I *want* to know!" 

Dick smiled gratefully. "What I meant to say was that Bruce has never really brought someone home for me to meet. So..." Dick paused, assessing the effect of his words. "I figure that you must be someone pretty special to him." He shrugged. "That's all, honest! I was just curious how you two met, and--" 

"--And what?" she asked, gently. Dick swallowed. He was entering dangerous ground. Dick was no longer investigating a case, he was now asking a personal question on behalf of Bruce *and* himself. 

"And what your intentions are with Bruce," he said quietly. To mask his confusion, Dick took a quick bite out of his breadstick. He felt Selina watching him, weighing the motivation behind the question. Finally, as if satisfied of his need for truth, Selina answered his questions. 

"Bruce and I met quite by design," she began. At his startled look, Selina laughed softly. "Oh, yes. I wrangled and invitation to the special showing of the Catseye Jewel at the Gotham Museum of Gemology a few weeks ago. It's currently on loan from Peru." 

Dick nodded. "Yeah, that's right. It's believed to have been part of an Inca ruler's scepter. The scepter's end was supposed to be in the shape of a puma's head, the sign of Incan royal power. The jewel was literally the eye of the puma. The story goes that the Catseye was endowed with some kind of mystical power. Whoever possessed it was said to be able to magically transform themselves into the form of the South American great puma." 

"Yes," Selina agreed, nodding. "Apparently not long after the Europeans began exploring the jungles of South America, they heard about the Catseye and its power. The Spanish Conquistadors killed the Inca ruler and stole the scepter. Besides the Catseye, the scepter was lavishly decorated with several more precious gems. These were all removed and scattered among the Spaniards. The Catseye is the only one that's ever been recovered." 

"Unfortunately," Selina sighed, "the arcane knowledge of how to use the Catseye's morphing powers was lost along with the death of the last person who wielded it, the Inca ruler. Have you seen the Catseye exhibit?" She asked Dick. He shook his head, no. 

"It's quite exquisite and quite priceless," Selina said, giving Dick a look of almost childlike delight. "It's also a one of a kind gemstone. No one knows the location of the mine where such a gem might have been discovered, although many treasure hunters have tried and failed." 

"What about the scepter?" Dick asked. "I thought I read in the literature that Bruce brought home that the Catseye's power was somehow mystically tied to the puma head." 

Selina nodded. "Yes, I believe that's part of the legend. Unfortunately, the scepter was made of pure gold. The Conquistadors probably melted it down to ingots immediately." 

Dick nodded thoughtfully and they ate in companionable silence for a few moments. Finally, Dick broached the question uppermost on his mind. 

"So how does Bruce fall into the picture?" Dick asked, forcing the issue back to his guardian. 

Selina smiled with genuine affection. 

"You're really concerned for his welfare, aren't you? Okay, I'd read an article about Bruce in _Forbes Magazine_. I admit to being just a touch fascinated by him. Not yet forty and already one of the wealthiest men in the world? What girl could resist? Then I read about the Wayne Foundation and about the real good that Bruce and the Wayne billions have done for the people of Gotham City." 

Selina laughed, a deep throaty laugh that a sent an involuntary reaction through Dick's being. Selina shook her head as if she still couldn't believe what she'd read. 

"Young, gorgeous, rich, *and* a philanthropist? I suppose I thought him too good to be true and just wanted to find out for myself." 

"And did you?" Dick asked. "Find out that he's too good to be true?" 

Selina looked at Dick seriously. "The jury's still out on that one," she replied, enigmatically. Selina held Dick's gaze. He felt that she was trying to see if she could find out more about Bruce through him. 

"Well, if you ask me," Dick offered, "Bruce is the greatest guy in the world. But then, I'm biased." 

Selina smiled and gathering her packets, she stood up. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Dick stood up, too. "He really cares for you, Selina...Keep *that* in mind." 

Leaning over, Selina kissed him gently on the cheek. "I will, Dick. I promise." 

With that, Selina walked away and was quickly swallowed by the crowd. 

**** 

Robin parked his motorcycle in the dark, filthy alleyway. The place was overflowing with rancid garbage, which had been carelessly dumped over the years. A city sanitation inspector's warning citation was posted slightly above Robin's eye level. The date was five years ago. 

Robin shook his head. The city's sanitation department was rife with graft, nepotism, and union cronyism. The DA's office had not been able to find enough evidence to bring indictments against anyone so far. However, while it was a thorn on the city's side, Batman still hadn't seen a need to enter the case. 

More and more, Batman was concentrating on stopping the increasing numbers of the criminally insane who were of the Joker's caliber, while less and less on "ordinary" racketeering. Unless Commissioner Gordon called him in on these cases, Batman felt that the GCPD was well equipped to handle them. 

While investigating his current Catwoman case and her tip on a black market trade in rare and endangered animals, Robin researched Leo Maxie and his many business dealings. After all, the two would-be thieves he'd stopped at the Gotham Zoo belonged to Maxie and were apparently working under *his* orders. 

In the course of his research, Robin discovered that Leo Maxie originally gained a foothold in the local city contracting rackets through his cousin, a minor official in the Sanitation Department. Since then, Maxie's own garbage pickup contracting business grew to become the largest in Gotham. 

So far the problem the city faced wasn't the loss of sanitation services, but rather of the smaller sub-contractors being squeezed out by Maxie's hired thugs. Still, any hard evidence against Maxie tended to disappear, usually in the form of some hapless mook washing up several miles to the south on the Jersey shore. 

Still others disappeared permanently. They'd probably been sent on a bon voyage party to the bottom of the sea replete with a new pair of cement overshoes, Robin thought wryly. 

He looked around the squalid alleyway and took a sniff. Grimacing at the foul odor, he decided that maybe *Robin* could step in and look into the problem. 

"Hey, if I want a part in cleaning up the city," he quipped, "I may as well start here." As soon as Batman returned from Europe, Robin would start investigating the Gotham Sanitation Department. 

For now, though, Robin was checking out a lead on his current case at the Gotham City loading docks. Keeping to the shadows, the Boy Wonder wended his way through the seedy and dilapidated seaside district. According to his information, the ship he was looking for should be berthed at Pier No. 5. Rounding another long-abandoned warehouse, Robin saw her. 

The _Tiger Lily_, an ancient, tramp merchant ship out of Macao. She was riding low in the water, indicating that her cargo hold was full. 

"Good," Robin muttered. She hadn't been off-loaded, yet. Moving stealthily, Robin grabbed one of the ship's tie-down ropes and began climbing. Reaching the ship's railing, the teen vigilante quietly made his way to the cargo hatch. Finding the emergency escape hatch, Robin made easy work of the rusty lock used to secure it. 

Feeling his way cautiously, Robin eased into the cargo hold, and finding a ladder, quickly lowered himself to the deck below. Taking out a penlight, the young crimefighter quickly looked around. What he found made him slightly ill. 

His presence was greeted with a sudden stirring of dozens of caged animals, from lions and tigers to rare, exotic birds. Robin noted several large elephant tusks stacked on cargo pallets, sans the elephants that they'd come from. Other pallets were loaded with animal pelts, mostly tigers, although a few lion manes showed that the King of the Beasts had not been spared. 

And the smell! These animals must have traveled under intolerable conditions. It was obvious that their cages had not been cleaned during the entire trip. Robin wondered if they'd even been fed. 

Shaking his head in disgust, Robin turned to go. He'd found enough evidence here to have Maxie locked up for a very long time. 

The sound of a machine gun bolt being pulled back suddenly echoed in the cavernous hold. At the same time, the floodlights flared on. 

"Well, lookee here, Mister Maxie. A little birdie just flew in." 

"Yes, Gordo, and ain't it a coincidence...I just happen to trade in rare and exotic birds." 

Robin looked around. He was surrounded. 

Okay, Grayson, he thought calmly. Time for Plan B! 

**** 

"Plan B," Robin snorted in self-disgust. Okay, being tied up with heavy chains and hanging upside down over the Bengal tigers' cage wasn't exactly what he had planned. But hey, there was plenty time...before dinner, he gulped. 

The tigers circled menacingly below him, roaring their rage and maddened by their hunger. 

Maxie stood over by the side. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, an aquamarine cravat with a bold amethyst pin, and--Robin did a double take--a Homburg! Maxie wore the hat at a rakish angle, the picture of an old-time gangster. He took a long puff from a foul-smelling cigar. 

Probably trying to kill the choking odor from the animal cages, Robin thought sourly. 

"Gordo, show the little Bird-boy just how playful my kittens are." 

Gordo grinned evilly and turned to do as he was told. He reached into a giant- sized cooler that was sitting immediately outside the tiger cage and pulled out a large slab of meat. Nodding at one his men, Gordo allowed the other henchman to hook the meat to the end of a long metal pole. 

Robin watched, fascinated as the tigers suddenly tore into the meat in a wild feeding frenzy. As they feasted, the large predators roared their killer challenges at one another as each vied for a piece of the proffered meat. 

Closing his eyes against Maxie's dinner plans for him, Robin concentrated on his chains. Breathing slowly to calm his rapidly beating heart, Robin went over his training step-by-step. 

Calmly, he worked his fingers to his utility belt. Contorting his body with superhuman effort, Robin managed to reach the right compartment. Careful not to drop it, he removed the special sliver of jagged metal that he kept there. It was a gift from a Grayson family friend, the Great Carlo, the Haly Circus escape artist. 

Palming the piece of metal, Robin again worked his muscles to perform impossible, minute movements. As he worked, the savage growls of the starving tigers faded into the background. They were replaced with the soothing sounds of Uncle Carl's quiet encouragement... 

**** 

"Close your mind to the crowds, Dicky. It's only you and the chains that bind you. Break free, Dicky. You can do it. You're my best student, Dicky. You have the gift..." 

The deep baritone of his new mentor's commands abruptly replaced Uncle Carl's soft voice. 

"Robin, you won't have time to think, only react. You must be prepared. Once again, take it by the numbers..." 

**** 

"By the numbers..." Robin whispered. He heard a click. He was free. Opening his eyes, Robin looked around furtively. Maxie and his boys were preoccupied by the tigers' demoniac table manners. 

"Well, this is *one* guest who's not coming to dinner," Robin muttered. "Heads up!" he yelled. The gangsters all looked up to where Robin was hanging. 

Or at least, to their surprised confusion, to where he'd just been hanging. His empty chains and shackles hung limply. Laughing from the shadows, Robin taunted, "Made you loo-ook!" 

Maxie and his men immediately broke into chaotic commotion, their frenzied shouts and randomly wild firing inside the closed quarters reminiscent of the tigers' own savage behavior of just a few minutes before. 

"Find him!" screamed Maxie. "Find him, you morons! And when you do...kill him! Shoot him on sight! He's fish bait!" 

"Aww-ww, Maxie," Robin's voice filtered mockingly over the din. "And here I thought we'd bonded!" A whirring, whistling sound preceded the floodlights suddenly going out. 

"Oh, man!" one of Maxie's thugs wailed. "He's got one of them Bata-ma-thingies! You know, a Bat-whatchacallit!" 

"A Batarang, you dope!" another said. "Now shut up, Stevie! If he can hear you, he can take you out--" 

Silence. 

"Lenny?" the first voice wailed. "Lenny, where *are* you, bro?" Out of the dark, an ironfisted punch dislocated the two-bit hood's jaw. 

"Sorry, Stevie, but you should've listened to your brother and kept your mouth shut," Robin chastised. "Oh, and *this* is for leaving me stranded in the Tigers' lair at the zoo." 

Lenny was instantly taken out of play, just as Stevie predicted. 

"Gordo! Gordo, where are you?" Maxie's angry, frustrated voice rang out in the dark. "Greaser...Red Dog...Lenny! Where *is* everybody? Answer me, dammit!" 

"Now, now...no need for that kind of language," Robin said. "I'm still a kid, remember? Your men are all here, Maxie. Look!" 

Robin threw a switch, and the emergency lights came on. Maxie looked up and around. Hanging from the overhead cargo grapplers, Maxie saw the unconscious forms of the creme of his organization. 

"It's not possible," he whimpered. 

"Oh, please," Robin said self-deprecatingly. "You're embarrassing me." Snapping a pair of Bat-cuffs on the racketeer, Robin added, "Oh, by the way, Maxie, it's *you're* turn." 

**** 

When the GCPD found Maxie and his henchmen a few hours later, he was screaming and blubbering in near hysteria. Whoever captured and secured him in the cargo hold must've had a perverse sense of humor, because the gangster was hanging, chained and upside down, over the tigers' cage. Maxie's face was a mere three inches beyond the tigers' nearest reach. 

When he was finally lowered to safety, Leo Maxie was a pathetic, broken man. He'd even soiled his own pants. 

Gordon and Bullock looked up at the grappling hook from where they'd freed Maxie. "The boy went a little too far," Gordon said sternly. "I'll have to have a little talk with him." Looking around at the emaciated, starving animals, that had been forced to lie in their own filth, Gordon amended his statement. 

"Well, maybe I'll thank him first," he said gruffly. "*Then* I'll chew him out!" 

**** 

Robin waited patiently, crouched in the deep gloom afforded by the shadows. It was almost midnight, and if he was late getting home, Alfred was gonna clobber him. Oh, well, crime didn't stop at midnight, he thought defensively. When was the *last* time some crook turned into a pumpkin at the stroke of twelve? 

As he waited, Robin suddenly caught sight of a darker shadow flitting across the skylights. Bingo! Just in time. 

He watched slightly in awe by the daring professionalism of the Catwoman. She calmly extended her claws and delicately cut through the skylight, as easily as slicing through butter. Next, she released a rappelling line and quickly lowered herself to the museum floor. 

Catwoman carefully removed a small aerosol spray from her carryall. Turning 360 degrees, she lightly sprayed the air immediately around her. Robin saw that the aerosol released a light, powdered mist. Catwoman immediately donned a pair of night vision goggles. 

Robin followed suit with his Starlite night goggles. When he turned them on, he saw that the powder Catwoman sprayed revealed the complex array of photoelectric laser beams that comprised the major part of the museum's security measures. 

"Not bad," Robin intoned admiringly. Catwoman next took out a small case and removed a number of small disks. Not quite being able to make out what the these circular items were, Robin grinned in admiration when he saw her meticulously set them up in a complicated pattern. 

The disks were actually mirrors, and Catwoman was using them to reflect the laser beams back in on themselves. Soon, she'd cleared an area large enough for her to walk through. 

Satisfied that her path was now unobstructed, Catwoman walked towards the Catseye exhibition. 

"You know, if turned you all of that ingenuity towards less criminal pastimes, you could probably end up owning this town...honestly." 

Catwoman let out a startled feline yowl, cracking her whip in the direction of Robin's voice. 

"Temper, temper," he teased. 

"Little birds should know better than to play with cats," Catwoman warned. 

"True, but I'm not all that little any more," Robin said. He threw his Batarang and its razor-sharp edge sliced Catwoman's whip in two. She suddenly leaped high, grabbing onto one of the gem displays. 

"Oh, little Robin, you shouldn't have done that," Catwoman said, threateningly. "That was my favorite whip." Jumping off the display she'd been standing on, Catwoman used her momentum to topple the heavy case over, scattering hundreds of precious gems across the highly polished museum floor. 

"Now see what you made do," her voice mocked from out of the dark. "I wasn't going to cause any damage...I was only going to take the Catseye. But *noo-ooo* *you* have to appear and spoil my fun." 

"Sorry, lady, but I couldn't let you take a priceless museum piece like the Catseye. It belongs to the people of Peru, and they've entrusted it to the people of Gotham. Batman's entrusted Gotham to me...so, there you are. It falls to me to see that the Catseye is protected during its stay in the city." 

"Look, Robin, you seem like a nice, decent kid," Catwoman's voice said placatingly. "I don't want to hurt you. So why don't you be a good little bird and go on home? I promise that I'll only take the Catseye, nothing else. Look, I wasn't lying about Maxie and his black market trade with endangered animals, was I?" 

"No, you weren't," Robin answered. He was moving quietly among the various displays. "Unfortunately for you, Maxie and his boys weren't able to take me out. They should all be under the GCPD's authority by now." 

"Boy Wonder, you don't believe that I *wanted* Maxie to win, now do you?" Catwoman's voice rang with insincerity. "I sincerely wanted you to stop his vile operation. You don't think I let you go alone thinking that you couldn't handle them?" 

"Your confidence in me is making me all teary-eyed, Catwoman," Robin said sarcastically as he quietly took out one of his bolas. Finally spotting the slim figure of the feline femme fatale, Robin whirled the heavy instrument and let fly. Catwoman heard the bolas high-pitched whir as they flew towards her. 

To Robin's shock, Catwoman instantly counterattacked with a *second* whip. Where'd *that* come from, Robin thought surprised! Catwoman stood slowly and looked at the Boy Wonder menacingly. 

"That's it, little bird," she said, cracking her long whip expertly. "The kid gloves are off!" To demonstrate her deadly accuracy, Catwoman's whip lashed out at one of gem displays sitting in the middle of the floor. At first it looked like nothing had happened. Catwoman walked calmly up to it, and with her eyes on Robin, gently nudged the glass display case with her hand. The case broke neatly into two halves. 

"Uh-oh. Time for Plan B," Robin muttered. He instantly shot out a jump line and barely managed to escape the Catwoman's deadly whip. 

"Listen, Catwoman," Robin urged, once he'd landed safely. "The GCPD is probably on its way by now. No way you knocking over all of these display cases didn't set off some kind of silent alarm." As if to prove his point, the distinct sounds of sirens could be heard fast approaching. 

"Come on, Catwoman, give it up. You *can't escape!" 

"Sorry, kid, but the word *can't* just isn't in my vocabulary!" With that Catwoman cracked her whip again, this time setting off the halon fire extinguishers. Robin quickly donned his re-breather. The halon gas was deadly if inhaled. It worked by cutting off all the oxygen in a room in order to extinguish the flames. Because he was still wearing his Starlite goggles, Robin's eyes were protected against the gas; however, he had to exit the museum quickly. 

Needless to say, Robin lost Catwoman in the misty fog of the rapidly spreading gas cloud. Looking up, Robin saw that the rappelling rope that Catwoman lowered from the skylight was still hanging from the rooftop opening. Taking a running leap, Robin grabbed the rope and quickly began climbing up. 

The caustic gas was beginning to seep inside his goggles' seams, causing his eyes to water. Rapidly blinking against the growing irritation, Robin climbed faster. As he neared the opening, Robin thought he saw a shadow flitting across opening. Robin saw a hand reach inside, and to his dismay, five razor-sharp retractable claws suddenly appeared. 

"You call yourself, Robin," Catwoman's mocking laugh rang out. "Then fly, little bird, fly!" Catwoman's razor claws sliced through the heavy nylon rope, clipping Robin's wings. 

"Plan C--!" Robin yelped, feeling himself falling awkwardly. Keeping his head, he coolly took out his grappling gun and fired off a jump line. Catwoman gave a distinctive angry yowl and disappeared from the open skylight. Robin climbed through and, not taking time to get his bearings, took off after her. He had a feeling he knew where she was heading. 

**** 

As he took to the Gotham skyline, Robin went over in his head the information he'd managed to dig up over the week on Selina Kyle. Born thirty years ago, Selina grew up with an abusive mother and an alcoholic father. Not understanding the pain of her childhood, the little girl believed that the abuse she received at the hands of her mother was deserved. 

"If I could only be a good little girl," Selina later told Child Welfare Services. Because she received only pain at the hands of her mother, Selina naturally turned for affection to her alcoholic father. 

According to the CWS sealed files, Selina learned to cope with her family situation. From her mother she learned to not give her heart without expecting pain in return. And from her father she learned a sleight-of-hand skill that became necessary for putting food on the table. During her father's sporadic, sober periods, Selina also learned about the Cat, and about what he called 'the conspiracy of silence' in Gotham City. 

Robin discovered that 'the Cat' survived his fall into the Gotham River, but lost his night's haul in the process. Furthermore, his injuries precluded him from ever pulling any other jobs. He'd married Selina's mother the year before, and due in part to his early success as a burglar, they'd been happy. 

Then he took his crippling spill into the Gotham River, and Serena grew embittered over his failure and the loss of thousands of dollars, money that the Kyles could use. 

Disgusted by him, Serena refused any further intimate contact with her husband. Then one night, in a drunken rage, he forced himself on her, and Selina was the result. Serena hated her own child from the day of her daughter's conception, and made the emerald-eyed, dark-haired girl's life miserable from the day she was born. 

The social worker assigned to the Kyle family noted that during his irregular periods of sobriety, Selina's father saw to the baby's care, feeding her and changing her. But usually, the baby was forced to remain in the same filthy diapers, sometimes for several days. 

Child Welfare Services removed Selina from the Kyle household on at least five separate occasions, but in each case, she was returned after only a few days with warnings against continued neglect. 

Thankfully for Selina, Serena died when the little girl was only seven, a victim of Crime Alley. Just a few years before, the murder of a wealthy couple had taken place in almost the same spot. Selina's father found the situation almost ironic. 

According to caseworkers, Selina revealed that her father would sometimes talk about her mother's death, almost as if it were a joke. "Imagine," he'd say to Selina, "the Waynes were killed in almost the same spot as your mother. Ain't life funny?" 

Curious about her father's callous statement, Selina asked him about it. The caseworker files stated that Mr. Kyle suffered from paranoid delusions, believing that he was the victim of a vast conspiracy perpetrated by some of Gotham City's leading citizens and the GCPD. 

Apparently, Selina's father confided in her about the Cat and the final failed heist. The former cat burglar believed Officer Gordon and possibly the Waynes lied about the money. The GCPD reported the loot as lost along with The Cat. Neither was ever recovered. 

"A quarter of a mil, kitten," her father would brood. "They kept it and then lied about it. And your old man never got to spend one red cent." At this point, her father would invariably start weeping. "Not one red cent, kitten." 

**** 

So Selina Kyle learned the rudiments of being a pickpocket and burglary from her father. The almost superhuman skill she'd achieved came from her own desire for revenge against those she believed had wronged her father. 

Robin shook his head, sadly. "I guess she never really cared for Bruce, after all." 

"That's not exactly true, Boy Wonder," she replied from the shadows. They were standing in the skeletal remains of the Katmandu Towers. The building was due for demolition tomorrow morning at dawn. Robin swallowed, unsure of her. Selina *was* a criminal, but she wasn't really evil. And she *had* tipped him off about Maxie's black market operation. 

"The Wayne family kept that money and divided it with Gordon. Easy money...untraceable. After all, it had been stolen by a known cat burglar who'd taken it with him to his death. Who'd ever suspect?" 

"That's crazy, Selina," Robin protested. "The Waynes were incredibly wealthy already. Their net worth was in the millions. Doctor Wayne developed several new surgical procedures that were destined to save countless lives. But his pioneering procedures needed new, improved instrumentation. Doctor Wayne was forced to develop these new instruments that have since become standard surgical equipment. Don't you see...he *owned* the patents on these new surgical tools." Robin felt like he was pleading. 

"That, plus some wise investments made him a wealthy man. But first and foremost, Doctor Wayne was interested in helping others, not in making money. That's why he and his wife started the Wayne Foundation. That night, your father stole the donations from a charity fundraiser. That money was supposed to go to the Gotham City Children's hospital, but it disappeared along with your father. The Waynes couldn't let the sick children of Gotham down, so they took a quarter of a million of their *own* money and donated it to the hospital." 

"And how do *you* know all this, Boy Wonder? Or should I say, Dick Grayson? Did your guardian tell you all this? You admitted yourself that you think the man walks on water...'the greatest guy in the world' is how I believed you described him." 

"Okay," Robin admitted. He deliberately removed his mask. "No more lies. Yeah, I'm Dick Grayson. But if I'm Dick, then just who do you think is Batman? Do you think for a minute that a man who's devoted himself all of these years to helping others by bringing criminals to justice would lie about his parents?" Robin paused. 

"*Your* father was an admitted criminal, Selina. Who would *you* believe if you were in my shoes?" 

"*NO*!!!" Catwoman cried out in hot denial. "They *lied*! *They* took the money, and tried to hide the fact by trying to kill my father." Without warning, Catwoman lashed out with her whip. Caught off guard, Robin was unable to dodge its stinging tip in time. The whip curled around Robin's neck, and he felt it suddenly yank him off his feet. 

Robin went flying into open space, dangling helplessly by the neck from Catwoman's whip. Desperately grabbing the whip with both hands, Robin managed to raise his body high enough to relieve the choking tension around his neck. Reaching up, Robin angrily removed the offending coils. 

"Are you crazy?!" Robin called up. "You've never *killed* anybody, Selina. Are you *trying* to get Batman to come after you?" As he talked, Robin swung sideways until he was able to reach one of the building's beams. Sitting down for a second to catch his breath, Robin massaged his neck. *That* stung. He noticed blood on his gauntlets. His own. 

Abruptly, a lithe figure dropped down next to him. Robin quickly back flipped and assumed a defensive posture. 

"Take it easy, Dick," Selina said quietly. "I'm not looking for a fight." Dick looked at her suspiciously. "I *promise*," she said. "Look, I'm even putting the whip away." 

With long-practiced ease, she expertly coiled it around her left arm. Dick nodded reluctantly. Selina reached her hand out to his chin. 

"Here let me look at that." She gently moved his head back and forth, examining the ugly red welts that were quickly forming around his neck. There was blood seeping from several cuts. 

"Hmmmmm. Looks ugly. Here, hold on." Selina reached into her carryall and took out a palm-sized aerosol spray can. She gently sprayed the cooling mist on the boy's neck, quickly bringing temporary relief. 

"Thanks," Dick said sincerely. 

"Don't mention it," she said, putting the can away again. "Look, Dick, you gave me a lot to think about...again!" They smiled as they both recalled their earlier dinner conversation. "What if I promised to leave Gotham? Would that square things between us?" 

"Selina, you know I can't let you go. You robbed thousands of dollars in jewels and cash from Gotham's citizens. You also broke into the gemology museum and caused several thousands of dollars worth of damage! As much as I'd like to, it's my duty to see that you're brought in." 

Selina smiled tenderly. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. 

"I know, little Robin, but I had to ask." Before Robin could react, he felt a fine, cold mist being sprayed across his face. 

"No!" Dick groaned. "Not againnn..." **** 

The warning klaxons woke him up! Voices were coming over loudspeakers. 

"We repeat...if anyone is inside the condemned premises of the Katmandu Tower, you must vacate now! This building is due for demolition in five minutes and counting. Clear the building. We repeat, this building is about to be destroyed in...four minutes, thirty seconds...!" 

Robin sat up, dazed. He was on the roof of the Katmandu Tower. He could see that the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. The Tower was supposed to be demolished at dawn, he recalled confused. He had to get away. 

Robin attempted to regain his feet, but promptly fell back on his knees. Catwoman must've sprayed him with an exceptionally powerful sleeping agent. His head was full of cobwebs, and he was seeing double. Robin blinked his eyes to clear his blurred vision. 

The warnings sounded again..."Two minutes, fifteen seconds..." Robin had to get to safety. He started crawling to the edge of the building, seemingly an inch at a time. The rooftop wavered in front of him. His hands and arms seemed unnaturally elongated. He heard a loud thumping in his ears. His heartbeat, Robin realized. 

As he moved forward, Robin's vision began dancing crazily. He started seeing whirling bright colors as the sun's early rays began catching and reflecting off the rooftop. What was that, he wondered? Lovely hues the colors of the rainbow, a sunburst on the decaying old tower. 

Clearing his vision, Robin stared at the mirage. "It can't be," he whispered, blinking rapidly. Forcing himself to crawl faster, Robin came up on the mirage. It was still there. He reached out and touched it. It was real! A weather- beaten black leather bag was wedged in tightly between two air conditioner intake pipes. 

The bright, diffused colors that Robin's blurred vision had seen were the jewels that 'the Cat' stole on that night so long ago. Some had spilled out from a tear near the bottom. Robin quickly looked inside the bag, and not surprisingly found a large amount of cash. 

"I don't believe this," he whispered, awed. "I just don't believe this." The stolen money and jewels must've been waiting, jammed in the same place all these years. 

"You have forty-five seconds...!" The loudspeakers called out. 

The warnings continued, but Robin had long since shot out a jump line and flown to safety. Within seconds, Gotham City rocked with the carefully controlled implosions that brought down the decayed Katmandu Towers. As Robin turned to go, he caught sight of another figure in the early morning sun, watching the demolition of a piece of Gotham history. 

Perhaps she'd be able to sleep a little more peacefully tonight... 

**** 

Epilogue 

Robin crept through the dark, dank tunnels that comprised the labyrinthine underground complex of the Gotham City sewer system. Batman was thankfully due back on the following night. While Robin held his end all week, he was really looking forward to his senior partner's return. 

"This solo stuff isn't all it's cracked up to be," he muttered. Robin grimaced as a rat scampered over his foot. "Tell me that didn't just happen," he groaned. A week of working solo had done much to erase the slightest veneer of romantic adventure from it. 

At the moment, Robin was on the trail of a new and dangerous villain who called himself 'Killer Croc.' So far the eyewitness accounts intimated that the name wasn't an exaggeration. 

Surrounded by dripping sewage, and a smell that rivaled the cargo hold on the _Tiger Lily_, Robin reflected on his performance of the previous week. Except for the fact that Catwoman got away (and truth be told, he wasn't sorry she did), Robin felt a well-deserved pride. 

Even Commissioner Gordon thanked him for a job well done. "Yeah, then he chewed me out for hanging Maxie over the tiger cage." Gordon warned him that if he ever pulled another stunt like that, Robin would be brought up on charges for use of excessive force. 

As for Alfred...First, for breaking curfew during a school night, and not returning home before dawn, the loyal assistant and surrogate grandfather chewed Dick out as only Alfred could with his highly polished turn of phrase. 

Then noticing that his young charge was suffering from several superficial cuts and welts to the neck and that he was also slightly disoriented from the sleeping agent, Alfred instantly marched Dick up to bed amidst his weak protests. Robin gave a rueful shake of his head. Only Alfred could reduce a superhero to stammering defensiveness. 

As Robin walked through the endless stream of foul-running water, he grinned. 

"It looks like sixteen isn't gonna be such a bad year after all--" At that moment, Robin was startled by the sudden appearance immediately in front of him of a giant, scaly, man-shaped creature. As the refugee from a B-horror movie leaped out of the water, the nightmarish monster bellowed his anger in a long, blood-curdling roar. 

"Who dares disturb Killer Croc?" 

Robin gulped, frozen in place. As Killer Croc became aware of his visitor, he grinned, smacking his lips. 

"Ah...looks like a tasty morsel," he said, reaching quickly for his unexpected snack. The monster moved with the darting swiftness of an attacking cobra. 

Croc's threatening move was what Robin needed to snap him out of his shock. He immediately leaped sideways, just escaping Killer Croc's deadly reach. Landing in a crouch, Robin took out his insta-net and quickly shot out the lightweight, Nomex triple-weave wire mesh. In a flash, it looped itself around the mutant man-creature. 

Stepping back, Robin inhaled a deep sigh of relief, and immediately choked on the foul smell. Feeling his hands shaking, Robin made a show of nonchalantly dusting them off. Killer Croc howled, enraged by his bonds. He thrashed about in the water in a wild frenzy, his bellows reaching new volumes. Robin watched mesmerized. Croc's wild gyrations reminded Robin a bit too much of the man- creature's reptilian namesake, the crocodiles. 

Robin decided that the wire mesh net needed reinforcing. He took out a Batline and began slowly walking towards the dangerous prisoner. Robin didn't take two steps before Killer Croc managed to break his bonds. 

"You're mine, little morsel!" Killer Croc screamed. "When I finish with you, there won't even be any bones left!" The deadly mutant began advancing on the Boy Wonder. 

Okay, Grayson, another fine mess you've gotten yourself into. Now what? 

Narrowing his eyes with a new determination, Robin reached for his utility belt. 

"Time for Plan B!" he said with a feral grin. 

**** 

The End 

#### 

73 


End file.
